After the Fall
by malarial Marie
Summary: The Jenova Project is being revived, and the science is as mad as ever. Tifa finds herself caught up in it all and gets involved with Sephiroth in the process- her very own slice of madness. Eventual Tifa/Seph
1. Survival Tactics

**A/N: So I'm finally committing myself to a full-length Tifa/Sephiroth fic. I've actually had this kicking around for a few months now, so I finally went through it and did some heavy editing. It is as close as I can get it to being acceptable enough for the public.**

**This fic acknowledges the entire Compilation. Before Crisis, Crisis Core, FF7, Advent Children, and Dirge of Cerberus. **

**Feedback is always, always appreciated. Much love!**

* * *

**Chapter #1**

**Survival Tactics**

Pain.

The moment she became conscious, Tifa became aware that she was in pain. Her arms hurt. Her wrists hurt. Her legs ached as though she'd spent hours running. Her spine felt wrenched out of place. When she moved her head, her neck burned.

Her head was the only part of her body she _could_ move.

Panic rising in her chest, swelling like a balloon being slowly inflated until she was sure it would burst and she would scream at the top of her lungs. Cold metal held down her wrists and her ankles- she was shackled, literally chained to a flat metal surface.

Was she dead? Dreaming?

No. She hurt too badly for this to be a dream.

Tifa slowly became aware of the numerous discomforts her body felt besides the pain. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion. Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth, dehydrated, sore. Her stomach had that dull ache that meant she was beyond hungry. And if she could, if she didn't hurt so much and if she wasn't scared and confused, if she could convince herself that this was just a horrible dream, Tifa would have tried to go to sleep. She was tired.

But more than once in her life she had been forced to deal with life-threatening situations even when her body and mind had reached their limits. She closed her eyes, took a private moment to pull herself together, and looked around to asses her surroundings.

The room was lit by brisk white light that hurt her eyes. On her left there were several metal tables with various instruments laid out on them, and a strange sort of chemistry setup- a vial of black fluid rested in a test-tube holder, glittering strangely in the harsh light. On her right there was an odd glass chamber, cylindrical, large enough to fit a human being into. And, straining her eyes, she saw that there _was _somebody in there, floating in the strange green liquid that filled the chamber. Whoever was in there clearly wasn't happy about it- the poor thing thrashed about crazily, stirring up a whirlpool of bubbles. All Tifa could make out was the occasional glimpse of an arm or leg, tinted a sickly green in the liquid.

Her throat constricted as she stared at this bizarre scene. She was obviously in some sort of laboratory, though Tifa couldn't imagine who would bring her here, and for what purpose. The sight of that person in the chamber, obviously in excruciating pain, did not bode well for her.

Tifa cautiously flexed her arms. The simple little movement sent bolts of pain shooting up from her wrists to her shoulders, and she cried out in surprise. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she focused on relaxing her muscles in an attempt to make the pain go away.

"Oh, you're awake."

Her head snapped back to the left and she stared, speechless and dumbstruck, at the man who had silently entered the room and now stood beside her, studying her with mild interest.

Tifa blinked. Refocused. Blinked again. The apparition did not go away.

"You!" she whispered hoarsely, struggling to free her wrists. Pain burned its way up her arms, hot, searing pain that hurt so badly she had no choice but to stop moving.

"Welcome to my lab. Tifa, is it?" Hojo (or this man who looked very much like the scientist) smiled thinly, eyes glittering behind his glasses.

Tifa glowered at him, still not trusting her eyes, certain this had to be some strange hallucination brought on by exhaustion or shock. "Let me go." Her throat burned when she spoke, she was so _thirsty._

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, apart from him," Hojo nodded at the large glass chamber, "you are my most prized specimen. At the moment, of course."

"Specimen?" Tifa whispered. Her mind finally acknowledged that this couldn't be a hallucination- it was too real. His voice made her skin crawl, and she had a sudden mental image, sharp and detailed, of Vincent Valentine, with his crimson eyes and metal prosthetic.

"Yes, specimen. Don't worry, the procedure won't be a very painful one. In fact, it could potentially be very pleasant, though I doubt you'll be cooperative enough to enjoy it. Then there is only nine months of waiting, and your life will be over." Hojo walked over to the table with the vials and tubes on it. He picked up the vial of black fluid and returned to her side in a slow swagger. "Once the pregnancy is confirmed..."

"Pregnancy?" Tifa cried, finally recovering the full use of her voice. She made renewed efforts to break the shackles around her wrists, jerking her arms desperately, ignoring the excruciating agony that movement caused her. Hojo continued, apparently unaware of her distress.

"I will be able to inject the fetus with the cells." He stared at the vial in his hand intently, as though it might be hiding something from him. For several seconds there was silence. Then, "You see Tifa, I don't like failures. They bother me. I should have known better, last time. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"What are you talking about?" The longer she could keep him talking, the better her chance of escape. She needed a plan. No, she needed a massive stroke of luck...

"Inferior genetics. That was the problem. Sephiroth's human genes were inferior. This time around," Hojo's eyes had taken on a rather insane gleam, "I'll have a much better carrier."

"Carrier?"

"Of course, the original is right there, but he is useless to me now. So uncooperative. Really, I'm surprised he isn't more supportive of my research. It's the reason he's alive, after all."

"Sephiroth," she breathed, snapping her head back and looking at the glass chamber, where the subject in question continued to thrash and flail about.

"He's proven difficult. I can only guess what went wrong...he had so much potential. But his mental illness is unacceptable. Of course, he is only a prototype."

Tifa turned her gaze back to Hojo, unwilling to accept or even entertain the possibility that the person in the chamber really was Sephiroth.

"And when are you planning on doing this...procedure?" she asked, masking the tremor in her voice with great difficulty.

"Immediately," Hojo replied briskly. "So, if you'll just lay back and relax, we can get started."

She stared at him, still not comprehending, until he approached her and placed one hand on her waist. Then she got it.

"No," she whispered, trying vainly to free her arms and legs. "No...get away from me..."

Hojo smiled placidly, running his hand from her waist to her leg, then gripping her inner thigh.

"I chose you for numerous reasons," he said, his eyes roving over her body. She shuddered, jerking her arms, trying to break the shackles around her wrists. "Firstly, because you and your friends have ruined my life's work. Secondly, you are a good, strong body, and you should be able to handle the pregnancy right to the end. And thirdly, I have to admit..." Hojo's smile grew, "you're quite the catch."

"Creep!" Tifa spat at him. He laughed and slid his hand along her leg. She screamed, letting out so many profanities in one sentence that even Cid Highwind would have been impressed, and tried her very best to thrash around. Hojo shook his head and placed his other hand on her breast, squeezing it lightly.

"Now now, don't be like that," he chided. "It will be over quickly, I promise." He moved to the end of the table and studied her appraisingly. "You really are a very attractive..."

_Crack._

Hojo glanced up, his concentration broken. Tifa craned her neck to get a better look at what had distracted the man.

There was a hairline crack running the length of the glass chamber.

Hojo reacted quickly, pulling out a small pistol and aiming it directly at the chamber.

"Don't move," he hissed at her.

"I can't..."

His hand connected with the side of her face, though his attention remained focused on his other "specimen." Tifa sucked in her breath, outraged and itching to strike back at the man responsible for her current situation. She was not used to being immobilized, and it infuriated her.

_Crack._

Hojo's expression darkened.

"Listen, I don't want to be strapped to a table if he's about to break out of there!" Tifa snapped. She was aware of her heart beginning to pick up speed, thudding rapidly against her ribs. Her breathing grew ragged.

"He won't break out." Hojo sounded too confident.

Tifa was not reassured. If experience had taught her anything, it was this- if you don't think it will happen, it's probably going to. Sort of her own version of Murphy's law.

The crack in the chamber had become a splinter. Fluid dripped out, a steady plonking noise filling the silent room.

"That's not really Sephiroth," she whispered, quite sure that even Hojo wasn't crazy enough to think a _bullet_ would stop Sephiroth. If it was Sephiroth.

"Quiet!"

The sound of glass shattering startled her so badly she shrieked. Whether it was pure reaction or a pre-emptive attack Tifa would never know, but Hojo fired two consecutive shots at whatever had just broken out of the chamber. One of his bullets must have hit something important, because every light in the lab went out, and they were left in total blackness. She only knew Hojo was beside her because he was breathing quite loudly, obviously terrified.

"How kind of you to invite me over, Professor Hojo." A cold, deep voice... a voice Tifa knew very well, if only in her nightmares...

"Get off! Get off of me!"

She heard scuffling, sobbing, and laughing coming from somewhere by her feet. Something warm and wet sprayed across her face, and she automatically screamed.

"No! No!" Hojo's voice cracked- he was clearly in pain.

She heard a sickening thud, then silence. Tifa didn't dare breathe.

_I'm going to die,_ she thought wildly, and screamed again when she felt a hand on her ankle. And suddenly the restraint on her right leg popped off. Then her left leg was freed- she writhed on the table in absolute panic, striking out with her legs in a desperate attempt to at least make contact with her liberator.

"Get back!" she screamed.

The hands were on her wrists now, freeing her arms, and holding on to them in an iron grip.

"Stop." That voice. She shuddered involuntarily. It was cold, icy, a voice that gave orders often and expected them to be followed. The grip on her wrists tightened. "You are coming with me," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. He threw her over his burly shoulder rather roughly. Tifa pounded her fists against his back furiously as he moved through the darkness.

Then a door was flung open, and harsh sunlight assaulted her eyes. She recognized the village instantly; it was Icicle. The bitter temperature shocked her scantily clad body. She noticed dimly that her captor had a mane of silver hair. And a very long sword.

No.

Her mind rebelled against it savagely. She continued to hammer on his back, screaming as loudly as possible.

"Help! Somebody help!" She didn't remember Icicle being this empty. Nobody so much as poked their heads out of their windows to see who or what was causing such a ruckus. Tifa's faith in humanity did a nosedive.

Sephiroth skidded down a small, snowy slope and made towards the hill at the end of the village. Tifa continued to pound on his back, though it seemed he didn't even notice.

"I said stop," he hissed in her ear, and slammed her down on the ground. She yelped as her back struck the hard, icy earth. He withdrew his sword and placed it against her neck. The cold, sharp metal burned her skin. "Are you going to cooperate, or will I have to kill you?"

"You'll have to kill me," Tifa gasped, struggling to regain her breath. She refused to look at him, focusing instead on his black leather boots.

"I'm afraid that's not an option at the moment. Now, be quiet and cooperate. We have to get out of here."

"What do you mean we? I don't have to go anywhere..."

He seized her by her throat and lifted her into the air as though she was weightless. Struggling to breathe as his hand tightened around her throat, Tifa finally looked at his face.

"Shall I leave you here for Hojo's flunkies, then?" he asked, his emerald eyes blazing furiously despite the calmness in his voice.

"Like you care," Tifa whispered breathlessly. Sephiroth flung her over his shoulder once again. She winced, but kept quiet.

"Better," he said approvingly as he marched towards the steep hill.

"We can't go this way," Tifa whimpered, remembering the treacherous path she and her friends had endured after snowboarding down the icy slope.

Sephiroth didn't reply. They were standing at the edge of the slope- she could see, looking around his massive shoulder, the steep descent towards the Great Glacier. He started down casually, his footing very sure. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say any more, and there wasn't anything Tifa could do about her current situation, she let her body go limp and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the cold as well as the obvious question of what was going to happen to her.

* * *

She must have drifted off, because when she opened her eyes she was lying on her back, and a heavy black trench coat was draped over her body.

She was unbelievably sore. _Everything_ ached. Every part of her. She felt as though somebody had given her a tremendous beating, then stomped on her head to seal the deal.

Tentatively, lest her body give out on her, Tifa sat up and scanned her surroundings. She was sitting on the floor of a small cave. A fire blazed several feet away, throwing off an impressive amount of heat. The ex-SOLDIER Sephiroth was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, watching the flames as they danced. The firelight touched his eyes and made them even brighter- brilliant, swirling green.

"Ughh..." Tifa moaned, stretching her legs out in front of her and wincing as a savage, aching pain seized them. The noise drew Sephiroth out of his reverie, and he looked at her sharply, his gaze cold and calculating.

"So you've finally decided to get up," he said, watching her stretch her limbs. Tifa took a moment to send him a dark glare.

"Why did you save me?" she asked. The fact that he'd rescued her from becoming a scientific experiment deeply disturbed her.

"I don't know," he answered bluntly. His attention shifted back to the fire in front of him, and his expression grew distant.

Tifa watched him for several seconds. She had not expected such a benign reaction. It was unnerving, the fact that he just sat there and paid her little to no attention. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled underneath her and to her embarrassment, she fell on her backside with a thud.

"Oww!"

"Be quiet," Sephiroth said flatly, not even glancing at her. Tifa scowled and shivered; the coat had fallen off of her when she'd tried to stand. Keeping an eye on the ex-SOLDIER in case he decided to kill her, Tifa put the coat on and scooted closer to the fire for warmth. She was quickly becoming aware of just how pitiful she felt- tired, sore, cold...and extremely hungry.

Her stomach felt like it was beginning to gnaw on itself out of desperation. She'd never known such hunger- it was maddening. Her mind turned instantly to food, and for the life of her Tifa could not think about anything else. Never mind the mass murderer sitting across from her, she needed to eat.

Her only option...

"Listen...umm..."

Sephiroth looked up at her, his face expressing mild surprise, as though the last thing he'd expected was for her to actually communicate with him.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice dangerously cold. Tifa shifted nervously.

"I'm sort of...starving," she continued cautiously.

"Thank you for informing me," Sephiroth answered, one corner of his mouth lifting in a derisive sneer. Tifa scowled at the ground and scuffed her foot into the dirt. He obviously didn't give a damn; if anything, he was probably happy to see her so...vulnerable. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"Have you got anything to eat?"

"No," he said curtly, looking back at the fire. Tifa gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Well...I'm a bit laid up at the moment, otherwise I could fend for myself," she mumbled. Hesitating, almost positive that what she was about to say would likely get her decapitated, she added, "Could you...umm...maybe get me something to eat?"

Sephiroth sighed deeply. Tifa jerked her head up and looked at him. He was still staring at the fire, his expression reflecting mild irritation.

"Will you perish if you don't have something to eat immediately?"

She felt her cheeks heat up at his belittling tone, and she longed to snap back at him. But self-preservation won out, and she answered as politely as possible.

"I might, actually."

Sephiroth sighed once more and stood up. Tifa braced herself.

"I didn't think you would be such an inconvenience," he said in a patronizing tone. "Because you're, as you put it, laid up, I will go get you some food. But I warn you, Tifa, I expect to be repaid for this favour." He moved to the cave's entrance, then turned around, his mouth lifting into a smirk. "Don't go anywhere," he added mockingly. Then he left.

Tifa glared after him, her face getting even redder. A moment of blind fury rose up inside her, and if she could have stood up, she might have gone after him and tried to sucker-punch him. Instead she scooted even closer to the fire and gazed into it, her mind racing.

The past twenty-four hours were a haze. From being knocked out at her bar in Edge, to waking up in that lab, to being...well...rescued, by Sephiroth. She felt panic creeping up in her. Had she escaped Hojo's lab just to be slaughtered by Sephiroth? But he had saved her. And he was going to get her something to eat. Surely he wouldn't just kill her, after going through all that trouble. Or maybe he would.

Then again, maybe he was planning on killing her slowly. Or using her to get to Cloud. That seemed more his style. She thought about what Cloud would do if he found out that Sephiroth had her, and knew Cloud would come after him. Maybe not even for her. Just because it was Sephiroth.

And of course, the obvious question. How was Sephiroth alive? And how had Hojo caught the man? For that matter, how was Hojo alive, and what exactly had he been planning on doing to her?

_"...his mental illness is unacceptable."_

Mental illness. That was putting it lightly. The man was insane. Tifa groaned and put her head in her hands, rubbing her face vigorously in an attempt to clear her mind. It didn't work. There was a dull pounding somewhere behind her left eye that got worse as she pondered the insanity and bleakness of her situation.

She needed a plan. Besides the obvious task of staying alive, she needed to do something. She needed...something.

She realized, as she pondered her situation, that she still had Sephiroth's coat. The heavy black garment dwarfed her small frame and kept her remarkably warm.

Sephiroth had gone out into the freezing cold without a coat. Well, he probably didn't feel the cold as much as she did. All the same, she felt a small twinge of gratitude. But she shook the feeling quickly, telling herself that any comfort he provided her with was negated by the fact that he had put her in this situation.

Sephiroth returned shortly, carrying two snowshoe hares in one hand. He tossed them at her.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" she asked, lifting one up and examining it. It was still warm. Blood oozed slowly from its' throat.

"Not only do you expect me to find you food, but prepare it for you as well?" he asked, his face unreadable.

Tifa shook her head.

"No, I can do it. But I don't have a knife." She watched in alarm as Sephiroth withdrew his sword, but he grasped the end and pointed the handle at her. "What, use your sword?" she asked in disbelief.

His previously passive face turned murderously irritated.

"What else? You've used it before. Or tried to," he added with a sneer. Tifa glowered at him and snatched the sword, turning to the task at hand. She didn't talk to him while she prepared her meagre dinner and ate it, and he promptly went back to ignoring her and staring at the fire as though entranced by the flames.

She felt much better after eating. Fingering the buttons on the trench coat, she glanced at Sephiroth, wanting to say something merely to break the eerie silence in the cave.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked after nearly two hours of listening to the wind blowing outside and the fire crackling in front of her.

Sephiroth looked up at her briefly before returning his gaze to the fire.

"No," he replied shortly.

"Not at all? I mean, you went outside without a coat..."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you might freeze to death if I take mine back," he interrupted sharply. Tifa blinked in surprise. Was he...concerned...about her?

"You..." she started, but he cut her off again.

"You are making that option look very appealing, on the other hand," he snapped impatiently. Tifa sighed and shut her mouth, gazing down at the fire. She was going to have to deal with the quiet, obviously, seeing as how her only companion was a short-tempered mass-murderer.

Another half-hour crept by with incredible sluggishness. Tifa began to fidget with the coat, out of boredom. When she'd explored every pocket and examined every button, she began to run her finger through the dirt, drawing stick-figures there. She drew one with long hair, and one with an enormous sword. Then she erased the head from the long-haired figure with the palm of her hand.

"Very amusing," Sephiroth commented, and she flinched, startled by the noise. He was watching her, his expression indecipherable. Tifa shrugged in what she hoped was an off-hand manner.

"Just a little foretelling," she muttered.

"How interesting," Sephiroth answered, though he didn't sound interested in the slightest. "I wasn't aware you were a fortune-teller."

"Well," Tifa answered, grateful simply for the chance to speak rather than sit in absolute boredom, "it's the most probable outcome." She was surprised to see a flicker of amusement in his eerie mako eyes.

"You're very insightful," he said, "but you cannot draw conclusions when there are so many variables."

Tifa tilted her head, now genuinely intrigued.

"Variables?" she asked, watching him.

"Yes. For example, if you continue to irritate me, I foresee your prediction coming true within the next twenty-four hours." Okay, he'd just threatened to kill her. Sephiroth continued, "If you don't aggravate me too much, well...we'll see. I'm sure I'll find some use for you."

"That's all my life is worth to you, isn't it. Something to use," she said coldly, staring at the ground in front of her rather than look at the man she loathed so completely.

"Don't be upset, Tifa. It's nothing personal. That's all any human's life is worth to me."

She shook her head in disgust.

"It never occurred to you that human life has value?"

Sephiroth didn't answer her. He'd apparently gotten bored with the conversation, and had resumed his endless (and unnerving) observing of the fire.

Tifa sighed. "What time is it?"

No answer.

"Look," she said, her anger getting the best of her, "you can't just ignore me. I mean...what am I supposed to do? What are you going to do with me? Will you at least answer me?" Her voice had risen steadily, until she shouted the last part at him. Instantly she saw that she'd crossed a line. Sephiroth stood up and drew his sword.

She made a desperate attempt to stand, and stumbled away from him. He put his foot on her back and kicked her down to the ground.

"I told you, Tifa. If you don't cooperate, I will kill you," he said calmly. Tifa groaned and crawled away from him, but he reached down and seized her ankle, yanking her back towards him roughly. Then he knelt down, pinning her arms and putting his weight on her. He was heavier than he looked.

She breathed in fluttery, panicked breaths and stared at him, wide-eyed, her heart battering against her ribs. Half-formed thoughts of Cloud, Marlene, Denzel, and her life in general raced through her mind, and the only concrete thought she had was that she didn't want to die yet. She had things to do, stuff she wanted to say to people...

"So," he continued, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

Was he asking for an apology?

"Please," she whispered, her entire body shaking with fear. Sephiroth had the cheek to smile at her.

"So you do have manners."

"I'm sorry," she added, her cheeks flushing with humiliation and rage.

"Hm. It's good to know you can overcome your pride, Tifa. Pride is a weakness for most people," Sephiroth answered lazily, studying her with his bright mako eyes. "Let's remember this little lesson, shall we? Consider it a warning." He almost got up, deliberated for a moment, and then bent his head to whisper in her ear, his hair tickling her nose, "And remember, you owe me a favour. For the dinner I so graciously provided."

He let her up and returned to his spot by the fire. Tifa wanted to scream with outrage. At this rate, she would almost prefer it if he got it over with and killed her. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to endure his company. And the thought of owing him a favour made her shudder.

Finally she crawled back to the edge of the fire and stretched out on her side, cushioning her head on her arm. There was nothing else to do now but sleep. Hopefully she wouldn't be quite so sore tomorrow morning...maybe she could make a break for it.

She tried to drift off, but it was far too cold. She found herself shivering again, despite the coat and the blazing fire. But complaining wouldn't get her anywhere. It would probably provoke his temper...maybe he would kill her if she whined about the cold long enough. That sounded like a reasonable plan. She considered it for a moment, and then decided the stress of her situation was beginning to affect her reasoning skills.

After an undeterminable amount of time, much to Tifa's surprise, Sephiroth spoke.

"Tifa."

She looked up at him warily. "Yes?"

"Are you cold?" His voice itself was icy, indifferent. She decided to go with the truth, because she had a feeling he would know if she lied.

"Yes."

Sephiroth looked at her strangely.

"So fragile," he mused, his eyes thoughtful. Then he patted the ground beside him. "Come here."

"Why?" Tifa asked suspiciously, remembering the favour she apparently owed him.

"Don't argue with me," he said brusquely. "Come here. Sit with me."

She didn't want to go anywhere near him, but she didn't dare defy him either. Cautiously she crawled towards him, still not trusting her aching legs enough to try to walk. He watched her, his eyes unfathomable, as she moved to sit several inches away from him.

"Closer," he prompted. Tifa closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Slowly she inched towards him. Her shoulder brushed up against his arm and she froze, looking away from him, half-expecting him to strike her or cut her head off. Instead he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him firmly.

Tifa's heart jumped into her throat, and she slowly turned her head towards him to meet his eyes. He was looking at the fire once more, his face blank.

"Umm..."

"Warmer?" he asked curtly. Tifa nodded, not daring to speak again. And she was warmer. His body was very warm...it was almost pleasant, being pressed up against him like this. It would have been lovely, if it wasn't for the fact that she was being held by the man who had killed her father, burned her town to cinders, and tried to destroy the planet.

The sudden warmth made her extremely tired. She tried to keep her eyes open, to stay alert in case Sephiroth was up to something (which he probably was, she reasoned), but she found herself drifting off anyway. She fell into a deep slumber, her frail body pressed against the burly ex-SOLDIER.


	2. Warming Up

**A/N: Thank you so very much for the feedback. Yes, it's difficult to keep Sephiroth in character. I hope I'm doing an okay job of it, because I like him for the axe-crazy lunatic he is! Now I just have to get him from axe-crazy to just... normal-crazy. Shouldn't be too hard. **

**The majority of the story will be told from Tifa's perspective- I'm purposefully keeping Sephiroth's intentions a bit of a mystery. Poor Tifa. I feel sorry for her.**

**Again, feedback is greatly appreciated! Peace.**

* * *

**Chapter #2**

**Warming Up**

Tifa's eyes fluttered open suddenly, and she stared at the crackling fire in front of her, mesmerized by the flames. Whatever she was using as a pillow felt warm; it wasn't particularly soft, but it was quite comfortable.

Something light and feathery kept tickling her nose. Tifa lifted her head and winced. She'd slept with her back in a rather awkward position, and her neck hurt. Her legs felt much better though, and her arms hardly ached at all.

Whatever was tickling her nose began to irritate her. She lifted her hand and brushed it away, then blinked in surprise as it fell back in her face. Long, pale silver hair.

Yesterday came rushing back to her, and she very nearly screamed.

Her head was cradled in Sephiroth's lap. Trembling, Tifa slowly turned her head to look up at her rescuer and captor.

He met her eyes placidly.

"So you've finally decided to rejoin the waking world," he said, his voice strangely soft. Tifa blinked again, to ensure she wasn't hallucinating. Sephiroth remained in her vision, his vibrant eyes fathomless pools of emerald. Not a nightmare, then. She'd barely begun to entertain the hope that it might be just that. Just a bad dream.

"Yes," she whispered, not knowing what to say or what she should do next. _Run_, her body seemed to scream at her. She didn't quite know how to communicate to her instincts that, even if she had the strength to run, Sephiroth would waste no time in catching her and most likely killing her for being such a fool.

She felt paralyzed.

"Very good. Get up."

Tifa lifted herself from his lap and stood up cautiously, half-expecting to collapse with the effort. But she was immensely relieved to find that her legs were only slightly wobbly today. Sephiroth leapt to his feet with an effortless grace that reinforced her earlier sentiment- running would be not only futile, but incredibly stupid.

Sephiroth tilted his head and studied her.

"What?" Tifa asked nervously, backing away from him. She couldn't escape, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to keep as much distance between them as physically possible.

"I see you've recovered the use of your legs," he answered idly. "That's good. We'll be walking today, and I don't relish the thought of packing you around on my shoulder for fourteen hours."

"Where are we going?" she asked uneasily. Sephiroth turned away from her.

"Come." He walked out of the cave without looking back, obviously expecting her to follow his every command.

Tifa sighed, tried to collect her ragged thoughts, and trudged after him out into the snow.

* * *

To her embarrassment, she more than struggled to keep up with him. Even when walking, Sephiroth moved incredibly fast. As she struggled through the snow some twenty feet behind him, Tifa considered making a break for it several times. But each time she thought about it, she almost immediately pushed the idea out of her mind. For one thing, she had no clue where they were. And if she got lost out here, she would surely freeze to death. Sephiroth seemed to know exactly where he was going- he didn't hesitate as he marched easily through the snow.

By midday Tifa was beyond exhausted. Her feet had gone numb with cold and her legs were about to give out on her. She was sorely tempted to sink into the snow and disappear.

"Sephiroth!" she called, angry at both herself for being unable to keep up, and at him for setting such an unreasonable pace. He stopped and looked back at her. Tifa bent over and massaged her legs gently, trying to get the nerves working in them again.

"What is it now?" he asked impatiently, returning to her side and glaring down at her.

"I can't," she muttered breathlessly, her cheeks burning with humiliation. "I can't walk anymore. My feet..."

"You truly are pathetic," he said, shaking his head. Tifa inhaled a breath of icy air and scowled up at him. She was dangerously close to losing what little patience she had left.

"Look, I'm not wearing the right shoes to be stomping around in the snow. And my legs feel like rubber bands," she answered, aware that her voice sounded quite irate. Sephiroth's face reflected her own emotions.

"I don't have time for your whining," he snapped. "What would you like me to do about it?"

"I don't know!" Tifa cried, throwing herself down on in the snow. Be damned with him, she was not walking any more today.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tifa. Get up."

"No," she mumbled, feeling her eyes well with tears. The combination of exhaustion and anxiety had finally gotten to her. She broke down in helpless sobs, hiding her head in her arms.

Sephiroth knelt down beside her and took hold of her wrists, pulling her arms away from her face. She glared down at her feet, unwilling to look at him. She didn't want him to see her cry.

"Tifa."

"Just leave me," she mumbled, hating the tremor in her voice, hating how easily he held her arms away from her face.

"You'll freeze to death," he said calmly. "Get up."

"I don't care. You're going to kill me anyway." She tried to pull her arms back, but he held on to her wrists firmly.

"I'm disappointed, Tifa. I thought you had more fight in you than that."

"Leave me alone," she sobbed, struggling to free her arms.

Sephiroth sighed, his breath warm against her face. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with exasperation. "Get up, Tifa. I'll carry you. We can take a rest in an hour or so."

"I don't want you to carry me."

"You don't have much choice in the matter." He let her arms go and grabbed her waist, lifting her off the ground easily. She tried to hit him, but he flung her over his shoulder effortlessly, as he'd done the day before, and continued walking.

"Why are you even bothering?" she cried in frustration.

"Forgive me for saving your life," Sephiroth answered curtly. "I wasn't aware you wanted to be a genetic experiment."

"You didn't do it for me, and you know it!"

"Be quiet."

"Put me down!"

"I'm warning you Tifa. You are beginning to get on my nerves."

"Perish the thought!" she snapped, and then burst into renewed sobs. The tears began to freeze on her face, and she rubbed them away angrily.

"Why are you crying?" Sephiroth asked sharply. Tifa didn't answer him; she continued to weep helplessly, despite the fact that her cheeks and eyes were now stinging. "Answer me," he demanded.

"Why do you think?" she mumbled.

"Surely your feet don't hurt that badly," he replied shortly.

"It's not my feet, it's my situation."

"Crying isn't going to change your situation. It's utterly pointless."

Tifa sniffed and wiped the tears off of her face once more. She hated him for it, but Sephiroth was right. Well, mostly right. Her little breakdown had done wonders for her mood. Despite her dire situation, she felt better.

They travelled in silence for another two hours before Sephiroth stopped. Tifa glanced around his shoulder to get her bearings, as she'd previously been staring at the ground. They were standing at the edge of a lake. Most of it was frozen over, but there were odd patches here and there that were exposed. The water was slate-grey and looked as cold as the ice around it.

Sephiroth set her on her feet rather gently.

"We'll take a thirty-minute break. Do you need some water?"

"Sure," Tifa muttered. She was thoroughly embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. There was no doubt in her mind that he thought her weak and pathetic. Well, maybe to him she was. But she didn't care about his opinion of her. She only regretted showing weakness to him. The man who had killed her father.

"Follow me. Be careful where you step. The ice is thin in some places."

Sullenly Tifa followed him across the ice. Sephiroth stopped at the edge of an exposed patch of water, then bent and cupped some of it in his hands, drinking quickly. Sighing wearily, Tifa knelt beside him and drank as well.

"I'm not going to kill you," Sephiroth spoke suddenly. Tifa let the cupped water trickle out of her hands as she looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"I'm not going to kill you," he repeated, standing. Tifa stood as well and eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm not irritating you enough today?" she asked in disbelief. Sephiroth looked at her, considering. One corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk.

"Are you trying?"

"No," she muttered, turning around and walking back towards solid ground. It was pointless, talking to him. She couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth.

"Tifa," Sephiroth said warningly. She half-turned, unable to ignore the tone of his voice, and looked at him in confusion.

"What? Do you want me to..."

She didn't get a chance to finish; the ice beneath her feet gave way without warning, and she plunged into the freezing water. Flailing her weakened arms and legs helplessly, Tifa struggled to get her head above water and keep it there. She sputtered and gasped at the shock of cold that coursed through her.

"Sephiroth!" she screamed, panicking.

"Stop thrashing," Sephiroth said calmly, moving closer to her. Tifa shook her head and coughed.

"Help me!"

"Calm down, Tifa. You need to stop thrashing about. Just relax." His voice was incredibly unruffled. Carefully he knelt down on the ice and extended his hand to her. Desperately she reached for it, trying not to move her legs or her other arm. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her easily from the water and back onto the ice. Frantically Tifa sucked in air; her lungs felt oddly constricted, and she struggled to regain her breath.

Sephiroth slid one arm under her shoulders and the other under her legs, and lifted her up. He carried her back to the edge of the lake and set her on her feet. She wobbled slightly, and automatically put a hand on his chest to steady herself.

"Take off your clothes," Sephiroth said, his voice still unnaturally calm.

"What?" Tifa gasped. Her brain was finally recovering from the shock of almost drowning, and she stared up at Sephiroth in horror. Her hair was beginning to freeze around her face.

"Don't argue with me. You're going to catch hypothermia, Tifa." His voice carried a faint hint of urgency now, and she took it as a very bad sign. Obediently she stripped off the leather coat, her plain white shirt, and her black skirt. "Your shoes as well," he added, so she took off her shoes and socks, and stood there in her underwear, shivering uncontrollably.

Sephiroth took off his shirt and handed it to her. Tifa slipped it on and immediately felt better, comforted by the warm, soft fabric. Then he took off his pants and gave them to her. She slipped those on too, as well as his boots.

Sephiroth shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

"Thanks," Tifa mumbled, looking away from him. He'd saved her life. Again. She hated him even more.

"You are utterly incompetent," Sephiroth snapped. Tifa looked up at him, ready to snap back, but something stopped her.

He was right.

Well, not completely right. She wasn't totally incompetent. But stomping about on the ice, after he specifically warned her to be careful, had been a pretty stupid move.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, meeting his angry glare. The annoyance vanished from his face, replaced by surprise.

"You're apologizing?" he asked in disbelief.

Tifa shrugged helplessly, hugging her arms around her still-trembling body.

"You did tell me to be careful. I guess I should have listened," she answered sincerely, still watching him, trying to decipher the myriad emotions that flashed through his eyes.

Sephiroth gave a long-suffering sigh and brushed his hair back from his face with one hand. He stepped up to Tifa and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. She nearly reacted to this with physical violence, but managed to rein the desire in.

"Are you cold?" he asked roughly.

"Freezing," Tifa admitted. She burrowed her face against his warm, dry chest. "Aren't you?" He was stripped down to his underwear, simple and pragmatic black briefs.

"No," he replied, rubbing her bare arms vigorously and warming them up. "Stay close to me for a few minutes. Your body temperature needs to return to its normal level," he added, his voice gentler than she'd ever heard it.

Tifa nodded and pressed herself up against him, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. His bare skin was extremely warm.

After several minutes of silence, she worked up the courage to speak.

"You're not going to kill me, then?"

Sephiroth studied her thoughtfully, a small smile forming on his lips.

"At this rate, I don't think I'll have to. You seem quite intent on killing yourself," he answered softly.

"I said I was sorry," Tifa mumbled, blushing. Did Sephiroth just crack a joke? True, it was at her expense, but it_ was _a joke. Strange. She wouldn't have guessed there was a sense of humour under all that hatred.

Sephiroth pressed his wrist against her forehead.

"Your body temperature has stabilized," he said, his voice curt again. He pulled away from her and picked up her discarded clothes. They were stiff and frozen.

"So...what now?" Tifa asked nervously, trying to keep her eyes off of him. But they were drawn back to his body again when he turned his back to her. He had an impressive build, she had to admit. She felt her face heat up again when she realized that she was staring.

Sephiroth muttered something under his breath; she didn't catch any of what he said, but watched in amazement as a column of fire suddenly blazed on the ground. The snow around it melted instantly. Sephiroth set her shoes by the fire as well as her clothes and his coat, spreading them out on the dry dirt where the snow had melted away.

So he had materia. She walked over to him, her feet flopping around in his oversized boots, and stood beside him.

"Now I'm going to dry your clothes. Sit down, Tifa. We won't be taking any more breaks after this," he answered, not looking at her. She watched his face, wondering what he was thinking. He ignored her, his eyes focused on the fire. When it started to die down into the ground, he cast the spell again.

Tifa sat down as close to the fire as possible. It was slowly scorching a circular hole in the dirt, and she watched this in mild amazement. Her hair was beginning to unthaw- cold water dripped down her face and evaporated almost immediately from the heat.

"Do you have enough energy to be doing this?" she asked uncertainly, wondering how bad his temper was at the moment. He seemed calm enough, not exactly angry, but definitely a bit irritated.

Sephiroth snorted derisively.

"Please, Tifa. I could do this all day," he said, his eyes following the flames as they leapt towards the sky.

"You...like fire, don't you?" The subject was dangerously close to the Nibelheim incident, and she felt the familiar anguish rise up in her.

Sephiroth peered down at her, considering. She looked away uneasily and waited for him to answer.

"Does it still haunt you?" he asked, his voice completely free of emotion.

"Does what still haunt me?" Tifa immediately regretting starting this conversation. She didn't want to talk about Nibelheim; not with anyone, and especially not with him.

"Fire has a certain appeal to me," Sephiroth answered slowly. "It is an incredibly destructive force, and yet it is absolutely necessary."

"I guess so." Tifa forced herself to look up at him. She immediately looked away. He was watching her with an unidentifiable expression on his face. He didn't say any more, didn't press the subject of Nibelheim, and she wondered if maybe he was showing a small sign of respect towards her. No. She discarded that thought immediately. More likely he simply wasn't interested in talking.

She checked her shoes to see if they were dry, and was relieved to find that they were. She took off Sephiroth's large, sturdy boots and put her own footwear on. Sephiroth wordlessly put his boots on, his eyes focused on the fire once again. He re-cast the spell as it slowly died away.

Her shirt was dry as well. It was a plain, thin cotton shirt that was well-worn. She took off his black shirt, handed it to him, and put hers back on. Her skirt and his coat were still slightly damp.

Tifa risked a glance at Sephiroth, and felt a wave of slightly hysterical amusement rise up in her chest at this outrageous situation. Sephiroth was standing beside her, clad in a black shirt, his underwear, and his boots, with no pants on. She was sitting on the ground, wearing her simple white shirt, his pants, and her shoes, and they were watching a fire that had appeared out of thin air.

_Okay,_ she thought hysterically, _don't laugh. He'll probably deck you one if you laugh_.

She laughed anyway, and Sephiroth looked down at her sharply.

"What is it?" he asked, confused, as she laughed uncontrollably.

"This," she managed to choke, "is..."

"Tifa, I am beginning to wonder if you might be mentally unstable," Sephiroth said, his voice sounding both surprised and slightly amused. "In the past three hours you've pitched both a fit of crying and a fit of laughter. Should I be expecting another fit in approximately two hours?"

She managed to rein in her laughter. "No," she sighed, glancing up at him. The look on his face sent her into another helpless bout.

"Do let me know when you regain your composure," he added, sounding slightly irritated again. Tifa finally managed to stifle her laughter, then checked to see if her skirt was still damp. It wasn't. Silently she took off his pants and put her skirt back on.

"Thanks," she mumbled, watching as he put his pants on. Sephiroth shot her a warning glare, and she looked away, reminding herself that she was in no position to piss the ex-SOLDIER off. His coat was dry now as well, so she put that on and stood up. "I've regained my composure," she added weakly.

Sephiroth snorted and let the fire die away. "Are you able to walk now?" he asked, studying her impatiently.

"Yes," Tifa muttered. Her legs did feel better after resting for a short while. And she didn't exactly want to be carted around by him like a sack of potatoes.

"Get moving, then," he answered, walking ahead of her. Tifa groaned tiredly and started after him, wondering how much longer they would be travelling today. The man was obviously tireless.

She tried to keep her mind off of what was going to happen to her, but the question nagged at her until finally she was forced to think about it. He had said that he wasn't going to kill her. Of course, he could be lying. He probably was. Maybe he meant he wasn't going to kill her yet.

And where were they going? She knew better than to assume Sephiroth was just dragging her around with no set destination in mind. What were his plans? She was sure he had a plan; he always did. Maybe he was going to try to destroy the planet again. If so, how?

And how was he going to use her to reach whatever goal he was aiming for? He obviously wanted her alive for the moment; he was going through great pains to ensure her survival, even being slightly kind to her at times. He seemed to be in a better mood today. He hadn't threatened her with physical violence. She recalled his rough handling of her last night, and automatically shuddered. He could so easily kill her...she wouldn't even have time to think about it. She wouldn't get a chance to fight back.

Maybe Sephiroth had reached a decision while she'd slept. He had been in the same position when she woke up as he'd been when she fell asleep...and she doubted even Sephiroth could sleep sitting with his back straight and his legs crossed in a meditative pose.

She was sifting through her thoughts, trying to draw conclusions to the endless questions racing through her mind, and staring at the ground, not paying attention to the man ahead of her, when she collided with his back.

"Hey!" she cried, startled. Sephiroth turned around and looked down at her.

"Watch where you're going, Tifa," he said, turning away from her as he spoke.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, confused, and moved to stand beside him. She stumbled back in surprise. They were at the edge of a sheer drop-off. The view was rather spectacular; she couldn't help but pause to admire it. Below them was the forest that surrounded Bone Village; she saw, far off in the distance, a thin, lazy pillar of smoke drifting through the sky.

"I think I will have to carry you," Sephiroth mused, studying the scenery around them.

Tifa looked down and gulped. It didn't look like an easy climb. Actually, it looked impossible.

"You're joking," she whispered apprehensively. They'd skirted completely around Icicle; she had no idea which direction they'd been going, but she trusted Sephiroth's navigational skills. Still, she was surprised that he'd managed to get them through the snow-covered country so quickly. The trip had taken Cloud and the rest of them a full week when they'd been chasing Sephiroth. They'd gotten lost countless times.

"I am not," Sephiroth answered.

"You know what? You can just leave me here," Tifa stuttered, backing away from the edge of the cliff. "I'll...I'll just go around."

He turned to her impatiently. "Don't be ridiculous, Tifa. It would take days to go around. You would have to backtrack through Icicle."

"Really, I don't mind," she said sincerely. "I'm sure Hojo's flunkies will be gone..."

"I'm sure Hojo is still there," Sephiroth cut her off harshly. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I thought...I thought you killed him."

Sephiroth snorted. "No. I did not kill him."

"Oh...well...look, there's no way we can climb down that," she answered nervously.

"You can't," he said with a sneer, "but I can. Now get on my back." He turned away from her and waited. Tifa stood her ground and stared down at the snow.

"No," she mumbled. Sephiroth rounded on her, his eyes blazing.

"I've been more than patient with you today." He grabbed her shoulder and shook her impatiently. "Do as I say."

Tifa stared up at him and shivered.

"Okay," she said weakly. "Okay..."

He turned his back to her again, and hesitantly Tifa wrapped her arms around his neck and gripped his waist with her knees. He jumped off the edge of the cliff, and she screamed in terror, sure that she was going to die. But Sephiroth spun around in the air and grabbed hold of the rock face, and began to scale down it effortlessly.

"Shit!" Tifa cried, clinging onto him in absolute terror.

"Kindly be quiet," Sephiroth snapped over his shoulder. He didn't even sound out of breath. Tifa groaned and closed her eyes, burying her face in his mane of silver hair. There wasn't much else to do except look around, and the scenery was rather frightening from this angle.

It took a mere fifteen minutes for them to reach the base of the cliff. Twenty feet from the ground, Sephiroth suddenly let go and they dropped down, making Tifa shriek again. He landed firmly on his feet, and she slipped off of his back numbly.

"How considerate of you to screech in my ear," Sephiroth said icily, watching her as she stretched her arms and looked around.

Tifa ignored his jibe. The air down here was much warmer than the freezing mountain atmosphere; there was no snow on the ground, and the leaves on the trees were a vibrant green.

"Let's go," she answered, glancing at the ex-SOLDIER. He was still watching her. "What?" She looked away. The expression on his face frightened her. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing. Let's go. We only have two hours of daylight left." He brushed past her impatiently.

* * *

They finally stopped travelling just as the sun disappeared completely, leaving them in the soft, muted light of dusk. They were standing at the edge of a small clearing in the forest. Tifa took note of the direction, in case she decided to make a break for it after all, even though she knew she probably wouldn't. Especially after seeing how easily he'd scaled down that cliff. She almost wondered if maybe it had been sheer luck that Cloud had defeated him.

"Make yourself useful for once, Tifa, and get some firewood," Sephiroth said, sitting down on the grass and watching her.

Tifa scowled down at him. "But..."

She stopped when he raised an eyebrow at her, and marched off to collect firewood. The arrogant prick; he obviously wasn't tired at all, and she was exhausted. Well, maybe she could twist this around and tell him she no longer owed him a favour. That probably wouldn't work, but she would try it anyway.

She went about collecting firewood, wondering if maybe she ought to run now. Then it occurred to her that he was probably expecting her to run for it- maybe he was testing her. Either way, he would catch her. She knew she couldn't outrun him, and she definitely couldn't fight him. He would probably beat her senseless if she tried to escape, and she didn't particularly want that.

She came back with an armload of firewood, and set it in front of him.

"Make a fire," Sephiroth said lazily, still watching her. Tifa sighed, fought back the urge to snap at him, and went about making a fire. She stopped after piling the wood, and looked over at him.

"I haven't got anything to light it with," she said shortly. Sephiroth shrugged and cast a fire spell, and the woodpile erupted into flames.

"You didn't try to run," he commented, still staring at her. Tifa shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what unnerved her more; his watching her every move, or completely ignoring her existence.

"No point," she mumbled, sitting on the other side of the fire and gazing into it. "You'd just catch me and drag me back." She cleared her throat and continued, "So I made us a fire. I don't owe you a favour anymore."

Sephiroth laughed.

Tifa looked up at him in astonishment. It was the first time she'd heard him laugh, never mind the fact that he was laughing at her.

"Is that so?" he asked once he'd finished laughing.

"Yes," Tifa answered firmly.

"So," he continued, one corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile, "you're calling the shots now, are you?"

She looked up at him warily, trying unsuccessfully to gauge his mood. "No," she said, "I just don't like the idea of owing you anything. Not that I think I do. But we're even now, okay?"

"As you wish," he replied, smiling vaguely. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Tifa admitted. She'd been so keyed up for the entire day, she hadn't even realized how hungry she was until he asked.

"Since you were kind enough to build me a fire, I will fetch you something to eat," he answered, getting to his feet. He paused before going, looking down at her thoughtfully. "You're rather unpredictable, Tifa. I like that." Then he walked off.

Tifa watched him go apprehensively. Was that a compliment he'd just paid her? Surely not. And what did he mean, unpredictable? She had to admit that she wasn't entirely herself at the moment, but that was only because she wasn't in a...normal...situation. What did he expect her to do, obey his every wish and command, and only speak when spoken to?

_I'm unpredictable,_ she thought glumly, _you're absolutely unstable._

He was volatile. She could never guess what his reaction might be. There were moments, though they were rare, when he actually seemed to enjoy her company. Sometimes it seemed he could hardly tolerate her. And she never knew what to expect when she spoke to him; she couldn't know if he would give her a curt answer, engage her in conversation, or completely ignore her.

After devouring whatever the hell that thing was that Sephiroth had found and cooked for her, Tifa lay down on her stomach and rested her head on her arms, gazing at the fire and feeling more tranquil than she had in the past forty-eight hours. Her legs felt almost normal again, and it was an enormous relief to be out of the cold and snow.

Sephiroth was polishing his sword with slow, deliberate strokes; he seemed completely absorbed in his task, and appeared to be enjoying himself. Tifa looked up from the fire and took the opportunity to study him. It was now completely dark, and the firelight flickered and danced across his face, illuminating his brilliant green eyes. She had to admit to herself, there was something undeniably beautiful about the ex-SOLDIER. That thick mane of silver hair falling around his face. And his face itself; the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, the perfectly straight nose. His features were deceptively fine, almost delicate. In repose, as he was now, there was no hint of menace or evil in Sephiroth's countenance.

_So misleading_, she mused to herself. She was enjoying the silence for once. In a way, it was comforting. Peaceful. It wasn't dead quiet, of course. Forest noises were all around them; the wind rustling the trees, the chirping chorus of crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl. And the sound of fire crackling.

When Avalanche had been chasing after Sephiroth, there was never quiet. They were always talking amongst themselves (except for Vincent of course), sometimes arguing, sometimes yelling. To get some peace you had to stuff cotton in your ears and go to sleep.

After drawing out the activity for as long as possible, Sephiroth finished polishing his sword and put it away. Then he looked over at her, snagging her eyes with his.

"Tomorrow we will be going to Bone Village. You'll have to find a phone," he said impassively. "Then you will call Cloud and tell him to meet you at the Forgotten City."

Despite the implicit warning in this bit of information, Tifa remained calm.

"Alright," she said softly, closing her eyes. Sephiroth was quiet for several minutes before speaking again.

"So you've accepted your fate?"

"My fate?" Tifa murmured, keeping her eyes closed. "If you mean I've accepted the fact that I'm completely powerless right now, then yes, I have."

"Interesting," Sephiroth answered. He did sound interested, for once. "Well Tifa, you make for an intriguing hostage, I must say."

"You said you aren't going to kill me. Did you mean you won't kill me yet?" she asked evenly, opening her eyes and looking at him. He was watching the fire, his expression completely blank.

"I wonder how Cloud would handle your death," he answered. Incredibly, Tifa felt no reaction to his words; no fear, no outrage or disgust. The blanket of peace that had fallen on her remained.

"Not very well," she said.

"Do you think he will avenge the death of his true love?" Sephiroth asked. There was a slightly belittling edge to his voice.

"He's tried twice already," Tifa murmured, closing her eyes again. "He'll come after you, yeah. For her."

"It's a miracle, don't you think, Tifa? What a good meal and a rest can do for your spirits." The belittling edge was gone; he was being conversational now.

Tifa smiled serenely. "Yes."

"You never answered my question," Sephiroth continued.

"What question?"

"Does it still haunt you, Tifa? Do you still wake up in the middle of the night and smell smoke?"

Tifa opened her eyes and sat up, mimicking Sephiroth's cross-legged position. "Of course it does," she answered, avoiding his eyes. "That isn't something a person gets over easily. I lost my father, and my home."

"You're alive," Sephiroth said simply, as though it was all that mattered. Tifa sighed deeply.

"For now," she whispered.

"Your lack of confidence in me is upsetting," he said. She looked up at him, expecting to see a mocking expression on his face. But his lips were curved into a small, almost playful smile.

"Are you trying to be funny?" she asked incredulously.

"If I must endure your company for at least another twenty-four hours, I would prefer it if you retained this good mood you are in."

"You know, you have a way of completely skirting around any question I ask you," Tifa said, feeling a small smile tug at her own lips.

"You're lucky I even bother to answer." The smile vanished from his face.

"I know," she said quickly, and the smile miraculously reappeared. "You're being very...civil." She felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

"Am I?" Sephiroth mused, his eyes growing distant and meditative.

Tifa sighed and let her thoughts drift. It hadn't escaped her attention that Sephiroth had changed the subject when she'd brought up Aerith. He had to know what she was talking about. It couldn't have been for her benefit, could it? She would admit to herself, if not to others, that even now she was jealous of the flower girl. Cloud poured his heart and soul into her memory. He would never love Tifa the way he loved her.

Despite the unnatural sense of calm that had descended over her, Tifa couldn't sleep. Neither of them had said a word for the past hour, but the quiet wasn't what was bothering her. And it wasn't the fact that her life was in the hands of the man she hated more than anything.

It was Sephiroth himself. It was his manner; it always left her thinking, wondering about him. She'd all but given up on speculating about his intentions, and there was nothing else to do but think about his behaviour. And though she hated admitting this to herself, she was intrigued by him. She also hated him, of course, and was absolutely terrified of him...but less frightened than she had been twenty-four hours ago.

"You can't sleep," the subject of her thoughts said suddenly. Tifa looked up, startled out of her reverie. Sephiroth was studying her with unsettling intensity.

"No," she admitted heavily.

"Is there a problem? We have another long day ahead of us, and you should get some rest," he said, his voice cool once more.

"I have a lot on my mind," Tifa replied, gazing at the fire. His scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Sephiroth stood up, and she watched him with mild alarm as he walked over and sat beside her, crossing his legs smoothly.

"Relax, Tifa." He raised his hand and put it on her shoulder. Tifa froze. A bolt of real fear coursed through her like an electrical current. She looked down at the ground and waited for him to say more, but he didn't. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, lightly grasping it, and a wave of drowsiness suddenly came over her. She only had time to realize what he'd done before falling against him into a deep slumber.

He'd cast a sleeping spell on her.


	3. Push and Pull

**A/N: Thanks very much to all who left reviews!**

**This chapter drove me crazy. It's hard to balance a character like Sephiroth, and it's damn hard to balance him in a way that makes Tifa feel something other than hate for him. I hope I did okay. Honestly, this has been re-edited so many times, so if there are any mistakes I missed, please point them out. Love**

* * *

**Chapter #3**

**Push and Pull**

Tifa woke up with the distinct impression that she was in her bed in Edge, curled up under a warm blanket. The past two days had been a dream; a very long, very surreal dream. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of warmth and safety.

Except: she didn't remember her pillow being quite so firm, and warm. She didn't think she'd gone to bed with somebody last night, but there was an arm draped heavily across her waist. And somebody was breathing in her face; slow, hot breaths of air which smelled rather pleasant. Strange, that. She didn't know anyone with pleasant morning breath.

_Did I get drunk...or...oh, hold on_, she thought frantically, and recalled with perfect clarity where she was and the situation she was in.

Which meant the arm wrapped around her waist belonged to Sephiroth, whose face was apparently just inches away from hers. Tifa breathed in deeply and opened her eyes, fighting down the surge of pure terror that rose in her throat like bile.

He was asleep. His face was very close to hers; their noses were almost touching. He lay on his side, his one arm cushioning her head, his other arm draped around her waist. His breathing was slow and steady.

The terror dissipated, replaced by curiosity. So even the great Sephiroth needed his eight hours of sleep. His thick leather coat was draped over her, she noticed. She didn't remember taking it off, and she guessed that the sleeping spell had essentially rendered her unconscious. He must have taken it off for her. That was probably why Sephiroth decided to get some sleep- there was no chance of her getting up in the middle of the night and escaping, being zonked out by materia.

Carefully Tifa lifted her head and looked around. The fire had died sometime during the night, and the sun was just starting to rise above the trees. She guessed it was around 7:30 or 8:00. She looked back at Sephiroth and studied his face. His mouth twitched slightly and his eyebrows were furrowed- he was dreaming, she realized.

She wondered what Sephiroth dreamt about. Were they pleasant dreams, where he'd succeeded in destroying the planet? Did he ever dream about the things he'd done?

Sephiroth groaned, and Tifa very nearly jumped out of his arms. Her heart leapt into her throat and her pulse began to race, but she managed to stay still, thinking that he would probably be extremely angry if she woke him up.

Then he groaned again, a low, hurt noise.

He wasn't just dreaming, she realized. He was having a nightmare. Maybe she ought to wake him up. His arm tightened around her waist suddenly, pulling her closer to him. His expression alternated between anger and pain.

Tifa's curiosity turned into surprise. She'd never seen him look hurt before. But whatever he was dreaming about, it definitely involved pain.

"Stop," Sephiroth whispered, and Tifa decided to wake him up after all.

"Sephiroth," she said tentatively, "wake up." He groaned again, his arm now squeezing her waist quite forcefully. Her heart racing, Tifa put her hand on his burly shoulder and shook it slightly. "Sephiroth, wake up!" She shook him harder, but the ex-SOLDIER didn't wake.

"Stop," he whispered again. Tifa took a deep, calming breath and put her hand against his cheek, nudging him.

"Wake up, Sephiroth," she said loudly. Sephiroth's eyes flew open- he stared at her for a brief second, and suddenly she was thrown onto her back, and he was pinning her to the ground, his eyes furious. Tifa closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever he was going to do to her.

Sephiroth immediately rolled off of her and onto his back, where he lay panting heavily, his eyes closed once more. Trembling, Tifa sat up and watched him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. He didn't answer her for a moment, instead focusing on getting his breathing under control. Finally he opened his eyes and looked over at her.

"You startled me," he said softly.

"I'm sorry, I...you were dreaming. It looked like a bad dream," Tifa answered, staring back at him nervously. He looked vulnerable, suddenly, and she couldn't help but feel a strong disconnect between the man in front of her and the monster of her nightmares. Sephiroth sat up and ran a hand through his thick hair, pushing it out of his face.

"It was," he said, his voice still soft. Then he seemed to regain his composure; he got to his feet and added, "Get up. We're leaving now."

That disconnect feeling vanished. He was Sephiroth again, and Tifa had to remind herself that she hated him. She stood and slipped his coat on, following him into the forest, her mind now racing as fast as her heart.

She felt incredibly invigorated. Sephiroth had been right about one thing. A good meal and rest did wonders for a person. She could actually keep up with him today, instead of trailing twenty feet behind him.

All morning they hiked through the forest in silence. The customary quiet that hung between them seemed different to her, somehow. It felt almost awkward. When she realized that she was thinking about the ex-SOLDIER again, Tifa groaned to herself.

_You'd better get your head straightened out_, _because this man is going to kill you. I don't care if he's got his nice moments, or civil moments. He's Sephiroth, for crying out loud._

She wished desperately for a distraction. Anything to take her mind off of things. Cloud had been a good leader that way. He knew when to call a rest for the group, knew when they needed to blow off some steam. She supposed she couldn't expect Sephiroth to give her an opportunity to unwind. He had his own agenda, and obviously didn't care about how she felt.

They continued on in this strange, uncomfortable silence until afternoon, when finally Sephiroth stopped. Tifa waited for him to say something, but instead he doubled over, his hands clutching his stomach as though in pain.

"Are you okay?" she asked, confused.

"Quiet," he whispered, his breath coming in long, ragged gasps.

Tifa shut her mouth, offended. She didn't want it, but still felt a bit of concern for the man in front of her. He'd saved her life, after all, and she wanted him to know that, as much as he'd hurt her in the past, she was still capable of showing gratitude. Hatred was his thing, not hers.

Sephiroth drew in a slow, rattling breath, and promptly started to vomit. Sticky black fluid splattered all over the forest floor, on his boots, on Tifa's shoes. She jumped back, clamping her hand to her mouth to repress the urge to shriek.

"Stop...staring...at me," Sephiroth groaned, stumbling to his knees and retching violently.

Her first instinct was to run. This might be her only chance. But looking down at him, Tifa felt that strange disassociated feeling wash over her once more, that disconnection, and she knelt down beside him, gathering his thick hair in her hands and pulling it all back, away from his face.

Sephiroth froze, his eyes shifting to meet hers. Then he looked down at the copious amount of nasty black liquid that he'd regurgitated. Slowly, trembling, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Why didn't you run?" he asked, his voice strangely soft again.

She could only look at him, horrified and not knowing quite how to answer.

* * *

"Take a rest. We're an hour outside Bone Village."

Tifa stopped and sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree. Her legs were beginning to ache again. Her thoughts were in a helpless jumble, as though somebody had scrambled her brain, and the harder she tried to untangle said thoughts, the more her head just _ached_.

Well, she ought to make the most out of this break- she doubted that there would be another one today. She took off her shoes and massaged her feet gently. When she looked up, Sephiroth was gone.

"Sephiroth?" she called out warily. No answer. He was acting very peculiar... whatever had happened earlier seemed to be weighing on him. Did Sephiroth ever fall ill? Was he hurt? Dying? Why did she care?

Tifa pushed her thoughts aside and concentrated on her massage, working from her feet up to her calves. She easily became completely absorbed with the task, and when a large hand fell on her shoulder, Tifa let out a startled scream and jumped to her feet. When she turned around, she was met with a rather amused Sephiroth.

"Calm down, Tifa," he said, sitting down where she'd been moments ago. He looked up at her, considering. "Sit with me," he added finally.

Completely unnerved now, Tifa sat down beside him and resumed massaging her calves. With great effort she managed to control her trembling- her fear of him was still very real, and any unexpected action of his frightened her.

"You startled me," she said when it became obvious that he wasn't going to speak.

"I didn't mean to."

"Oh," she managed, confused as well as unnerved. She put her shoes back on and looked at him hesitantly. "Look...if I upset you this morning...I'm sorry."

Sephiroth looked away. When he spoke, his voice was laced with some unidentifiable emotion that she'd never heard before.

"Why did you wake me?"

"You were having a nightmare," Tifa replied, bewildered.

"You don't think I deserve to have nightmares?"

At a loss for an answer, Tifa rubbed her temples. "Well..." she began slowly, but he cut her off.

"I'm sure I've given you a fair amount."

"Okay." Tifa stood up, agitated by his bizarre attitude. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I'm grateful," he said, so quietly she was sure she'd misheard him.

"What?"

"I'm grateful."

"Why?" Was he...thanking her?

"But I don't understand," he added, ignoring her question. "Why would you show any consideration towards me?" He was still looking away from her.

Tifa stared at him in disbelief. He was right, of course. In fact, twice now she'd shown him rather more consideration than he deserved. But the fact that he took note of that baffled her.

"I don't know," she admitted, sitting down beside him again. "Why does it bother you?" she asked boldly, not expecting him to answer.

"It doesn't bother me."

Tifa huffed in frustration.

"Well, obviously something's bothering you," she muttered. Sephiroth finally turned his head and looked at her. His eyes were dark and brooding.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Tifa answered, breaking their staring contest and looking down at the ground.

"Tifa."

"Yes?" She stared pointedly at the ground, avoiding his piercing eyes. Sephiroth put his hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't quite bring herself to brush him off.

"You don't owe me anything," he said softly.

Tifa couldn't stop herself- she looked up at him. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't owe me anything."

She could only guess where that sentiment came from. "Okay."

"I don't need your pity," he added, but his voice sounded uncertain. It pushed Tifa even further towards the edge of something unknown and quite unwelcome.

"I don't pity you. Is that what's bothering you? You think I feel sorry for you? Because I don't. I don't feel sorry for you. I don't care if you have nightmares and if you're sick and confused, or whatever..." She was babbling, she realized, but for some reason Tifa just could not shut her mouth.

He cut her off, his voice bitter as a cold Northern wind. "The only thing bothering me is your incessant drivel. I don't give a damn how you feel." He got to his feet. "Let's go."

Tifa didn't believe him for a second. She trailed after him sullenly.

* * *

The question of what exactly was bothering Sephiroth went unanswered until after they left Bone Village. It frustrated Tifa, the sudden shift in attitude. Just when she thought she was getting used to him, he changed his behaviour entirely. His personality seemed completely fluid, and she struggled just to keep up with, never mind understand, any of it.

They walked right into the village as though they lived there. Sephiroth didn't hesitate. Several excavators looked up at them as they walked towards the inn and did a double-take, their mouths dropping open in shock. Tifa couldn't help but smile rather grimly as they entered the inn.

"Ask if you can use the phone," Sephiroth murmured to her, giving her a gentle nudge towards the front desk.

"Welcome to Bone Village! Our rooms are..." The clerk trailed off, his eyes widening. "Umm...ah...is that...?"

"May I use the phone? It's urgent," Tifa interrupted. The clerk stared at Sephiroth wordlessly. "Excuse me?" Tifa added, drawing the clerk's attention back to her.

"Oh! Yes, of course. Here." He passed her the phone, and Tifa dialled Cloud's cell number. It rang five times before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi Cloud," Tifa said softly.

"Tifa? Tifa, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." She trembled at the sound of his voice, so familiar and safe, yet too far away to really be a source of comfort.

"Tifa, where the hell are you? Are you alright? What's going on?" Cloud's voice was shot with urgency.

"Cloud, calm down. I'm alright. I'm..." Tifa glanced at Sephiroth before continuing, "I'm with Sephiroth."

"What?"

"Somebody abducted me from my bar, and I woke up in Icicle," Tifa persisted, "in a lab. Cloud, listen. Sephiroth wants you to go to the Forgotten City."

"Tifa, are you hurt? He hasn't...done anything to you, has he?" Cloud asked, his voice now bordering on terrified. Tifa swallowed. Hearing her childhood friend's voice laced with fear did nothing to soothe her ragged nerves.

"No. No, I'm not hurt. I'm fine. Just..."

Sephiroth approached her and took the phone from her hand.

"Hello Cloud. I assure you this is not a prank call. I have your dear lady friend with me. If you want to see her alive, I suggest you do as I say. Come to the Forgotten City immediately. Don't bring any of your friends. You must come alone. If you don't, I will know, and Tifa's life will be cut short." He hung up the phone, then looked at the clerk, who was now shaking, his face pale and frightened. "Have a good day," he said curtly. "Let's go, Tifa."

Tifa shot the clerk an apologetic look as they left the inn. Sephiroth did a strange thing then; he placed his hand on her upper arm as they walked towards the Sleeping Forest. She flinched, then relaxed. He was walking slower, she noticed- moving at her pace for once.

Sephiroth obviously intended on killing Cloud. She felt cold sweat break out on her back at the thought. He might not be _able_ to kill Cloud, of course. There was always the chance that Cloud would beat him. He'd done it twice before, so why not a third time?

The reality of her situation, which she'd managed to ignore for the past two days, was beginning to set in. Cloud's life was at risk. There was nothing she could do about it, either. And her own life- she knew she couldn't trust a word Sephiroth said to her.

"Are you going to kill Cloud?" Tifa asked him as they strolled through the Sleeping Forest.

"So many variables," Sephiroth said vaguely. "The Sleeping Forest is a beautiful place, isn't it?"

Tifa gritted her teeth. Right. He had an aversion to any serious question she asked him.

"Yes, it's very beautiful," she agreed. "Sephiroth...please answer me."

"A little diplomacy might be in order," Sephiroth answered, his voice still vague.

"You just want to talk to him?" Tifa asked in surprise.

"He is a fascinating young man. So strong, and yet so very weak."

_I swear, this guy has split-personality disorder or something._

"Cloud's not weak," she said defensively.

"Isn't he?"

"No. He has his moments of weakness, but so does everyone." She remembered the pained look on Sephiroth's face when he had been dreaming. The brief flash of fright as he stared down at his boots, spattered with that strange black liquid.

"If you say so, Tifa."

"So...you're not going to kill him?" she persisted. It didn't really matter what he said, but she might be able to read his intentions...that was probably impossible, but Tifa was willing to try.

"Why are you talking?" Sephiroth asked, helping her over a large fallen tree. He was still avoiding looking at her.

"I want to know what's going to happen," Tifa replied impatiently, trying to keep her temper in check.

"I don't think you do."

"You're going to kill Cloud, and then you're going to kill me," Tifa continued, trying to read his face. Sephiroth shook his head.

"I suppose, if truth be told, I don't even need you anymore, if I ever did, to get Cloud's attention. He would have come after me for the Ancient's sake," he said thoughtfully.

"Yes, that's probably true," Tifa admitted.

"And that bothers you, doesn't it?"

She yanked her arm out of his hand and rounded on him, her temper finally getting the better of her.

"Yes!" she snapped. "Yes, it bothers me! Of course it does! And you know what? It's your fault! You killed her, you killed my father, you've ruined my life and, you've ruined Cloud's life! Why can't you just disappear?" she screamed, and flung herself at him, aiming a punch at his face.

Sephiroth caught her wrists and flipped her onto the ground easily. She screamed and kicked her feet at him.

"Get off of me! Get off!"

"Tifa..."

"I hate you!"

He pinned her legs down with his and held her there.

"Calm down," he said quietly.

Tifa stopped struggling against him, mostly because there was no point in it. He'd immobilized her with minimal effort, not even breaking a sweat.

"What do you want from me?" she cried, turning her head to avoid his eyes. "You may as well get it over with. You said so yourself, you don't need me."

"I don't need you to get to Cloud. That's true," he answered, his voice gentle. Too gentle.

"Then what the hell do you need me for?" Her entire body trembled, not with fear, but with rage. She hated him. She hated how gentle he, how reasonable, how unlike himself he was being.

"I think we should talk, Tifa," Sephiroth said. His expression turned grim. "Please calm down."

Tifa breathed in deep and tried to get a hold of herself. It wasn't easy. Slowly she relaxed her body, until she was limp underneath him.

"Alright," she whispered. "Alright, I'm calm. Will you let me up now?"

"Of course," he said promptly, and got off of her. He held out his hand but Tifa ignored him and got to her feet by herself. "Apparently it's a touchy subject for you," Sephiroth added quietly.

Tifa sent him a resentful glare. "Apparently."

"We should sit for a moment," Sephiroth replied. Despite her frayed nerves, Tifa couldn't help but take note of how he was acting. He hadn't been rough with her, hadn't threatened her, hadn't said anything belittling while she'd thrown a tantrum. He was being patient with her.

She groaned and sat down on the grass. Sephiroth sat beside her several inches away. He looked straight ahead as he began to speak.

"Tifa, have you ever been lied to?"

"Of course."

"Has anyone ever told you a lie about yourself?"

"Probably," she said uneasily, wondering what point Sephiroth could possibly be trying to make.

"Have you ever found out that your entire life was a lie?" His voice had grown steadily quieter, and he whispered the last question.

"No," she admitted softly.

"I have. It is a terrible thing. You see, I was not openly lied to. I was misled. I thought I had earned my reputation as the greatest SOLDIER Shinra has ever had. But that's not so. I did not earn it. I was born into it. I was created for the sole purpose of being the best in SOLDIER." His voice had turned bitter. "Most people, you for example, have to work to overcome the situation they are born into. I never had that option."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tifa asked hesitantly. "It has nothing to do with me..."

"Have you ever lied to yourself, Tifa?"

"Probably."

Sephiroth looked at her. His brilliant green eyes were sad. She'd never seen him look sad before.

"I'd assumed that I didn't need company. I have always been perfectly content with myself," he replied heavily.

"What are you saying? You enjoy my company?" Tifa asked, incredulous.

"I think I do," Sephiroth agreed gravely.

Tifa stood and took several steps away from him. She kept her back to the ex-SOLDIER when she spoke.

"You're playing mind games with me. Please don't do that."

Sephiroth laughed harshly, startling her into turning around and looking at him. His eyes were cold again.

"I'm not playing games with you, Tifa," he said curtly.

"Yes you are. You really expect me to swallow that?" she snapped back at him. Sephiroth sneered at her.

"You think you've got me figured out, haven't you," he sighed, getting to his feet. Tifa fought back the instinctive fear that rose up in her, and held her ground. She would not run from this man.

"I don't think that at all. I _can't_ figure you out! Not at all!" she answered angrily. Sephiroth looked startled.

"Have you been trying?" he asked curiously. Tifa pinched the bridge of her nose and shot him a look of pure frustration.

"No, I've got you all figured out," she muttered sarcastically. Sephiroth shook his head; his curtain of silver hair rippled with the action.

"This is not productive."

"Maybe you should just get on with whatever you're doing," Tifa said slowly. "Because..."

"You don't understand, do you?" Sephiroth interrupted her and sat down again. His emerald eyes darkened. "I don't know what I'm doing," he added quietly.

"We're going to the Forgotten City. You're going to confront Cloud...probably kill him too." She was going to say more, but stopped suddenly.

_You think you've got me figured out..._

"Alright," Tifa sighed, and sat down beside him once more. "So you don't know what you're doing." She felt a flutter of relief. He had no plans. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to make plans, but it was comforting to know that he wasn't up to something. And though she wasn't sure why she believed him, Tifa realized that she did. It made sense; Sephiroth's behaviour was so erratic because he was aimless. Maybe he really did just want to talk to Cloud. About what, she couldn't even begin to guess.

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes," she admitted, meeting his eyes. "Sephiroth...maybe...we should talk..."

"I was attempting to," Sephiroth said, the corner of his mouth curving into a half-smile.

"Alright. Start talking. I'll just...listen," Tifa replied¸ irked by his unpredictable mood swings. But she kept her voice calm, and her face impassive.


	4. Stockholm

**A/N: Do let me know what you think of the story so far. Peace**

* * *

**Chapter #4**

**Stockholm**

"I was in Hojo's lab for quite some time before he brought you there. It was painful. I don't know what he was doing to me, but it was _very_ painful."

Tifa shuddered involuntarily. She could only imagine how much it would take to cause Sephiroth real pain. "You just... woke up there?"

"Yes." Sephiroth didn't elaborate on that part, and Tifa didn't push the matter. "When you woke up, and Hojo began to speak to you... I realized what he intended on doing. And so I decided to make my escape, and take you with me. I didn't plan. It was a very hasty decision. I couldn't let Hojo turn you into an experiment."

"Why not?" Tifa asked quietly. "I'm sorry, but I have a hard time believing that you would care about what happened to me."

"He was going to throw your life away for science. I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone."

"Oh..." She didn't quite know what to say to that. So Sephiroth cared about something. "So...why didn't you just kill him?"

"I draw the line at killing my father," Sephiroth said softly.

Tifa hesitated before commenting, "But not at killing my father."

"I didn't know he was your father, Tifa. It wouldn't have mattered if I did, of course. But I didn't kill the man _because_ he was your father."

"I know." She blinked back familiar tears. "Go on," she prompted. "You saved me because I was going to be used in an experiment?"

"Yes. I was going to kill you while you slept. But I was too curious; I wanted to see what your reaction would be. So I waited until you woke up, and when you did, you were in miserable condition. It made me think...I wasn't in any position to make rash decisions. And then you began to pester me." Sephiroth smiled. "It was the last thing I expected. Your reaction to your situation intrigued me. You were willing enough to ask me for things despite the fact that you absolutely hate me."

"I didn't have any choice."

"There is always a choice. You could have given in to your pride and starved. It was fascinating, seeing how...don't be offended, Tifa, but you are incredibly weak. Survival for you is so much more difficult than it is for me."

"I'm offended anyway, you know. I'm actually not a very fragile person. I'm pretty tough," Tifa answered, trying to keep her voice light. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, maybe not according to _your_ standards. But compared to most women," she added, grinning a bit despite herself.

"It made me think. Your life was completely in my hands. You were too weak to find food, and the cold would have killed you. I decided I wouldn't get rid of you, at least not yet. Though..." Sephiroth hesitated, frowning, "I did lose my temper with you. I apologize."

Tifa snorted. "You're always losing your temper."

"That's not true. You're too sensitive, Tifa," Sephiroth said casually. "I'm actually quite level-headed." There was a wicked gleam in his eye when he said that.

Tifa groaned. "Sure you are."

"It's true. I'm a very patient man. Your temper is much worse than mine."

"Right. You've burned down an entire village, slaughtered innocent people, and tried to destroy the planet," Tifa answered, "and _I_ have a problem with my temper?"

"You see?" Sephiroth smiled. "Not only are you temperamental, you're also rude."

"I am not rude," Tifa snapped. Sephiroth laughed at her. "I'm not rude. I don't interrupt people when they're trying to talk, or completely ignore them, or..."

"Let's not start an argument," Sephiroth said, amused. "As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, I decided I wouldn't kill you yet. But you did test my patience. I decided to head south, to get you out of the cold, and whilst we travelled I weighed my options on what to do with you. And then you pitched a fit." Again Sephiroth smiled, as though he found the memory pleasant.

Tifa shook her head. "You know...I think Hojo was right about you."

"Oh?"

"I think you might be mentally ill." She watched his face to see if he got angry. "I mean...all of the terrible things you've done, that's more than enough proof that you're unstable. But just...your behaviour..."

Sephiroth raked one hand through his silver hair and looked at the ground. The equanimity vanished, and his voice was harsh again when he spoke. "I didn't ask for this, Tifa. I was born this way."

"This is what I'm talking about, you know. One minute you're calm, almost nice, and the next you're pissed at me," Tifa said softly. Sephiroth's expression cleared again.

"I'm not angry with you," he replied quietly. "It's not you, Tifa."

"Then what is it? Why are you so..."

"Crazy?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say..."

"But that is what you mean, is it not?"

"Well...I guess so."

"I was going to leave you when you fell through the ice," Sephiroth said, his voice quiet, almost sullen. "I looked at you and I thought, why am I even bothering? But then you screamed my name...I couldn't stop myself. I had to save you. And I felt weak- I felt pathetic, realizing I cared just enough about you to feel obligated to save you. Why? Why should it matter to me, what happens to you? You're nothing to me, just a weak, stupid human. Yet...you amuse me. You make me smile. I couldn't let your life end there..." he trailed off.

Tifa put her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You care," she whispered. The idea, absurd, ridiculous, disturbing, made her chest feel tight and her stomach queasy.

"I don't think I _could_ kill you, even if I wished to do so."

Tifa felt as though something was trapped inside her chest, and was slowly tearing her insides to pieces. "This is insane. Sephiroth...I mean, for crying out loud. What the hell are you going to do? You realize that Cloud won't rest until you're dead, right?"

"What about you?" Sephiroth asked. She felt his eyes on her, though she still had her head in her hands and refused to look at him, or anything else.

"What about me?" she groaned. "You think I...want you dead?"

"Don't you?"

She meant to say yes, but the word just wouldn't come out. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

Tifa finally lifted her head, throwing her hands into the air. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, it matters. Why do you care what I think?" She finally looked at him, watching his reaction. His eyes were glazed over and vacant. "Why do you care about me? How can you care about me? You don't care about anything."

"You hate me," Sephiroth replied, as though that explained everything.

"That's got nothing to do with this conversation. I can put aside my hatred if I have to. If you want to talk, we can talk. Just don't bring my feelings into it."

"I want to know about your feelings."

She gritted her teeth. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just do."

Tifa shook her head. "You are impossible."

"I've never felt so complicated," Sephiroth said casually. Tifa shot him a suspicious look.

"What do you mean, complicated?"

"Life has always been very simple to me, even after the... incident in Nibelheim. I've always known how I feel about everything. Things aren't so clear to me anymore."

"Well...what do you want from me?" Tifa wrung her hands nervously.

"I don't know."

"You've said that a lot in the past five minutes."

Sephiroth smiled, then stood up. "We should keep moving. I think we caused quite a stir with the villagers."

"_You_ caused a stir."

"I suppose my reputation has always preceded me."

Tifa rolled her eyes and got to her feet as well. "You know, I don't trust you in the slightest. This is probably part of some terrible scheme you're planning on pulling off," she said lightly.

"Let's go."

"Right. Here we go again."

"Don't be so sensitive Tifa."

"I'm not being sensitive, _Sephiroth_."

He stopped, half-turned, and eyed her. Tifa walked right past him.

"Tifa..."

"Let's go," she cut him off, flashing him a small but sincere smile.

* * *

The tension in the air had all but disappeared, and they walked in what Tifa could only describe as companionable silence. She couldn't help but think that they'd reached an understanding earlier- it wasn't mentioned, but it was there.

He didn't walk ahead of her anymore. They travelled side by side, at Tifa's pace. She was determined not to call a rest, though she suspected that if she wanted to she could. Sephiroth himself seemed more serene than he had been in the past two days. Tifa wondered if he'd reached some sort of conclusion, and though she knew the possibility should have terrified her, it actually eased her mind.

It was near dark when they reached the outskirts of the Forgotten City. Tifa scanned the area nervously, her mind drifting over to Cloud. He would be here soon, and then...well, then something. She wasn't sure what. She wasn't yet willing to accept that Sephiroth wouldn't hurt Cloud, even if she did believe he wouldn't hurt her. If she believed that at all.

"This will do," Sephiroth declared.

"I'll get some firewood," Tifa said tiredly, looking around. Sephiroth put his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about that. Sit down and rest. I'll make you a fire," he answered. Even after a full day of travelling, that strange bout of vomiting noxious black stuff, and a rather intense discussion, the man wasn't tired at all. He seemed restless, invigorated.

Surprised but relieved, Tifa thumped down on the grass and took her shoes off. Her feet were starting to blister- it had been a long time since she'd done so much walking, and she was more out of shape than she cared to admit.

Sephiroth built a fire and sat beside her.

"Thanks for slowing down today," Tifa said softly, glancing at him. He was staring at the fire, of course, his eyes calm and reflective.

"Don't thank me," he murmured. "For anything."

"Why not?"

"You have no reason to."

Tifa decided to change the subject. "Cloud will probably be here sometime tonight. He would have called Cid for a lift."

"Cid?"

"Highwind. He's the one with the airship. The pilot."

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course." She was surprised that he would ask permission.

"One of your friends...he wears a cape. A red cape. He's a gunman."

"Vincent?"

"Who is he?"

"He was a Turk, a long time ago. Hojo shot him and used him for an experiment."

"Why would Hojo do that?" Sephiroth frowned, his eyes growing dark at the mention of Hojo.

"Vincent was in love with Hojo's assistant, and I guess he was meddling or something. You know, with the Jenova project. He disagreed with what Hojo was doing."

"Smart man," Sephiroth murmured. His face cleared again. "You should have asked Cloud to bring something to eat."

Tifa glanced at him with a nervous smile. "You're finally hungry?"

"No, of course not. Aren't you?" His voice was good-natured and genuinely curious.

"Not really," she lied.

Sephiroth smiled and lay on his back, staring up at the sky. Hesitantly, Tifa lay down beside him and looked up as well. The heavens opened up above them, the countless stars bright and dazzling.

"Which do you prefer, Tifa? Night or day?" Sephiroth asked conversationally.

Tifa smiled. "Hmm, I don't know. I love the stars, but I also love a warm, sunny day."

"No preference, then?"

"I guess not. I think the best thing about Nibelheim was the sky at night-time. It was beautiful."

"Yes, I remember. Do you know the constellations?"

"No," Tifa answered. "I never went to school or anything."

"That's a shame."

"Did you? Were you in school?"

"Of course. I started school when I was four. I was pulled out when I was ten."

"Why were you pulled out?"

"To join SOLDIER, of course."

"You joined SOLDIER when you were _ten_?"

"No, I was _recruited_ when I was ten," Sephiroth answered patiently. "Of course, I was far too young to actually be in SOLDIER. I was in training for three years."

"So you were in SOLDIER when you were thirteen?" Tifa asked, amazed. She tried to imagine Sephiroth as a child, but her mind drew a blank. She just couldn't picture him as being young and innocent.

"Yes."

She hesitated before asking, "Did you want that?"

"What I wanted never entered the equation."

Tifa didn't quite know what to say to that, so she continued to look up at the stars. The air was getting colder; her arms broke out in gooseflesh and she shivered. Sephiroth turned his head to look at her.

"Cold?"

"Just a bit." She glanced at him, feeling suddenly shy. His brilliant eyes held the light from the fire and seemed to flicker. He looked back up at the sky, a small smile flitting across his face.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure." How strange, she thought, that they were laying here having a normal, civil conversation.

"What happened to your mother? Did she die in the fire?"

"No...she died when I was young. She killed herself."

"Oh." Sephiroth's voice was quiet. "You and your father must have been very close."

"We were. Papa basically raised me, after...after Mom died. He was a good man." Her eyes were suddenly wet, and Tifa realized she was crying. Why did he have to talk about her past, the past he had destroyed? And now she was crying in front of him, and it was his fault.

Sephiroth sat up and looked down at her. Embarrassed, Tifa closed her eyes and rolled onto her stomach, burying her head in her arms. She didn't want him to see her cry, but she couldn't stop herself. Her body began to shake. A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her, but she refused to lift her head.

"Tifa."

"Hmm?"

"Is it always so painful to talk about your father?"

She sniffed. "No."

"If I could ease your pain, I would." His hand was still on her shoulder; heavy, warm, and strangely reassuring. Tifa struggled to control her crying, hyper-aware of the ex-SOLDIER's hand on her, amazed at herself for not being repulsed, or outraged. Slowly she sat up and wiped the tears off of her cheeks.

"I'm a mess right now. I'm usually not so..."

"You're under a lot of stress, Tifa. I apologize, I won't bring the subject up again."

Tifa looked down at his hand resting on her shoulder. His fingers were long and surprisingly slender, almost delicate. Pianist's fingers. She looked up at him uncertainly. There was genuine concern etched across his face, and something else. Remorse? Guilt?

"What's happened to you? You're not the Sephiroth I know," she whispered

"Aside from the brief conversation about my education, you don't know me at all."

Tifa stared up at him, chewing on her bottom lip nervously and debating on what to say. She'd managed to stop crying, but the familiar grief crouched just below the surface of her mind, ready to spring up at any moment.

And again, she felt that peculiar disconnect. She could not reconcile the man in front of her with the man who had cut her down in the Nibelheim reactor so long ago. This man had no insane, unhinged glow in his eyes. The Sephiroth she remembered would just as soon kill her as look at her. The Sephiroth sitting beside her couldn't bring himself to stand by while she became a mad scientist's latest experiment, or drowned in icy-cold water.

Her life had value to him.

_"That's all my life is worth to you, isn't it. Something to use..."_

_"It's nothing personal. That's all any human's life is worth to me..."_

Hesitantly Tifa leaned against the ex-SOLDIER's massive shoulder; she half-expected him to push her away, to ridicule her, but Sephiroth wrapped his arm around her and carefully pulled her close to him. It occurred to Tifa that this was new to him, being a source of comfort. And he _was_ a comfort to her, for some reason. She wasn't quite sure why.

Another sob broke free from her throat. Tifa pressed her face against his chest and cried. She felt his other hand touch her hair gently, pushing it away from her face. Sephiroth embraced her uncertainly, cradling her against him, and she could tell that this was _definitely _new to him. Being gentle.

"I'm sorry." She hated herself for apologizing to him, of all people. "I..."

"Hush, Tifa. Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong."

Tifa collapsed into a fresh round of sobs, and Sephiroth's hold on her tightened. He was warm, firm, solid. He held her the way she'd always imagined Cloud would hold her- protectively, tenderly, in a way that made her feel as though the world couldn't touch her. Her head was suddenly swimming. She forgot that the man holding her had killed her father and burned down her hometown. That he'd nearly destroyed the planet in a misguided attempt at revenge.

He was just Sephiroth; witty, straightforward, hot-tempered, maybe mentally unstable. He'd saved her life twice, never mind why. And he smelled good.

Tifa finally regained her composure after nearly twenty minutes of crying. She was exhausted and embarrassed, and yet...she felt strangely contented. Cautiously she put her hands on his chest and lifted her face to look at him.

Sephiroth looked back at her. He seemed uncertain, even nervous. Hesitantly he raised his hand to her face and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Are you familiar with Stockholm Syndrome, Tifa?" he asked, lowering his hand and staring into her eyes intently.

She had never heard of it. "No."

"Hostages, when afflicted with it, begin to sympathize with their captors. I've seen it before, during the war in Wutai. With POWs."

"Oh. You think I have Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No." Sephiroth looked away. "Quite the contrary."

"I don't get it," she admitted.

"I...think you should get some sleep, Tifa," Sephiroth answered quietly. "It's been a long day. You're mentally and physically exhausted."

"Yeah, but...what about Cloud? He'll be here soon, and..."

"Don't worry about that," he cut her off shortly. "Get some sleep."

"I don't think I'll be able to," she replied, startled by the sudden chill in his voice. Sephiroth looked back at her, his emerald eyes calculating. Gently he rubbed her shoulder.

"Sleep, Tifa. You have nothing to worry about," he murmured. He was kind again, but there was something in his voice that made her uneasy. Besides that, she knew there was no way she would be able to go to sleep.

"I really..." Tifa started, but a familiar wave of tiredness washed over her. "Hey..." she mumbled indignantly, collapsing against him. Sephiroth caught her, and as she closed her eyes she saw a smile flit across his face.

"Goodnight, Tifa."

* * *

"Tifa, wake up!"

Firm hands were shaking her, touching her face, her hands. Tifa groaned and rolled onto her back.

"Not yet...please," she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed, not yet willing to deal with the world. Suddenly she was being lifted up. "Hey, put me down! Just five minutes..."

"Where is he?"

"Oh...he's not here yet?" Tifa asked, still not opening her eyes.

"Is he coming back?"

"What are you talking about?" she groaned, finally opening her eyes to glare at Sephiroth. Mako eyes stared down at her, concerned, angry. Blue. "Cloud!" she cried, jumping out of his arms and landing on her feet. "You're here!"

"Tifa, where's Sephiroth?"

Tifa struggled to push the grogginess from her mind and focus. "Umm...I don't know?"

"Where did you get that coat?" Cloud asked, frowning. "Tifa, what the hell is going on?"

"It's Sephiroth's coat, I was freezing to death so...well...when did you get here?"

"Just now."

"What time is it?"

"3:00 A.M." Cloud's eyes were aggravated as he studied her. His mouth was set in a thin, tense line.

Tifa ran her hands through her dirty, tangled hair and looked over at the fire. Cloud followed her gaze but looked back at her impatiently.

"He's gone," she whispered.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? What did he say?" Cloud demanded. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Tifa!"

She looked up at her childhood friend. "Let's go home, Cloud."

"He has to be here. He's waiting for me to let my guard down," Cloud growled, looking around. He spat on the ground in frustration. "Damn it!"

"No. He's gone," Tifa answered softly. Despite the warm coat she was still wearing, she shivered. Cloud brought his attention back to her, and his expression softened into concern.

"Okay. Come on, let's get you home." He put his hand on her back and steered her down the path that led into the Forgotten City. But he kept his sword clutched in his other hand.

Tifa stumbled along with Cloud, still half-asleep. On the other side of the city, Cid was waiting with the_ Shera_. And he wasn't alone. Vincent and Yuffie stood with him, and all of them looked intensely worried, their eyes wide and alert to any danger.

"Hey" Tifa called to them. She could scarcely believe this was happening. She was with her friends. She was alive. Sephiroth had let her go. Alive. Yuffie squealed, and Cid's face broke out into a relieved smile.

Yuffie bounded up to her and hugged her fiercely. "Cloud called Reeve and told him you were gone, so Vincent and I told Cloud we were coming with him, no arguments..."

"Thanks," Tifa interrupted her with a weak smile. She mentally thanked Sephiroth for demonstrating the benefits of cutting people off in mid-speech.

"So what happened? How did you get away?" Yuffie asked her excitedly. Cid stepped forward and clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, glaring at Yuffie.

"You alright?" he asked gruffly. Tifa nodded.

"I'm alright," she said reassuringly, glancing at Vincent. The man was studying her, his crimson eyes blank. The expression on his face (which could only be described as expressionless...) was strikingly familiar to her.

"The hell's goin' on?" Cid asked Cloud.

"You're leaving. I don't know where Sephiroth is, and Tifa wants to go home. So take her home," Cloud answered impatiently.

"What? Just like that?" Cid exclaimed. "There's a #$# psycho out there and we're gonna just leave?"

"I'm not going with you." Cloud's voice was firm and unwavering. "I'm staying."

"What? Cloud, no," Tifa cried, snapping out of her weariness and turning to him. "Don't go after him!"

"Tifa, I have to. I can't just let him go. I have to stop him."

"Stop him from what? He's not doing anything."

"Tifa, he kidnapped you and held you hostage to get me here. Of course he's up to something!" Cloud answered, raking his hand through his wild blond hair.

"Sephiroth didn't kidnap me, Cloud. Hojo did."

"Are you sure?" Vincent interjected quietly.

"Yes! Well, it wasn't Hojo himself. I guess it was some of his flunkies," she replied, remembering what Sephiroth had told her. She watched Vincent's face grow slightly more animated. His eyes flickered angrily.

"Hojo's dead," Cloud said impatiently.

"No," Tifa answered, meeting Cloud's eyes resolutely. "He's not dead. I saw him. Cloud, let's go. Forget about Sephiroth, he's not our biggest problem right now."

"Not our biggest problem?" Cloud echoed incredulously.

"No."

They stared at each other for several seconds, until finally Cloud's rigid shoulders slumped. "Alright, Tifa. Let's go."

Tifa felt a rush of relief. She hadn't expected Cloud to give in so easily. "Okay."

Cid grunted and headed back to his airship. "Well, come on. Let's get the hell out of here."

Tifa glanced back towards the city almost wistfully; she half-expected to see Sephiroth watching her leave, but all she could see through the darkness was the ghostly outline of old buildings. She shook her head to collect her thoughts, and followed her friends back to the airship wordlessly.

Once aboard the airship, Tifa immediately scarfed down an enormous meal and drank four cups of coffee. Cloud, Vincent, and Yuffie watched her in amazement.

"Hungry?" Yuffie asked faintly.

"Yeah," Tifa said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Take your time," Cloud added, amused.

"Hey, I've eaten twice in the past three days. I have a right to stuff my face," Tifa answered, gulping half a cup of coffee to chase the scrambled eggs.

"Did he treat you badly?" Vincent asked her softly. Tifa shrugged. She desperately wanted to avoid talking about Sephiroth. She didn't know what to say to her friends; they wouldn't believe her if she told them the truth. That he'd saved her life, that he'd gone out of his way to make her more comfortable. And that she'd even... warmed up to him a bit. No. She didn't want to tell them anything. But Vincent was waiting patiently for an answer, and the look on Cloud's face suggested she better give them one.

"Not really."

Vincent searched her face, calculating. Tifa wanted to squirm under his unyielding gaze- she looked down at her plate of food, unable to look him in the eye.

Cloud cleared his throat. "Well, did he...talk to you?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit."

"Well...what did he say?" Cloud pressed, hardly able to keep the impatience from creeping into his voice.

"I wasn't really listening," Tifa answered vaguely.

"He didn't hint at how he's...back?"

"No."

"And you didn't ask him?"

"Well," Tifa said with a smile, "he did threaten to behead me if I irritated him, so I tried to stay out of his hair."

"He was harsh with you?" Vincent asked slowly.

"He had some ground rules," she replied, unable to hold back a sheepish little grin.

"I don't see the humour in it," Cloud said sharply. "Why are you smiling?"

Tifa shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do? I'm just glad to be going home. But forget about Sephiroth. We have a bigger problem."

"Hojo," Vincent said; his normally toneless voice became coldly furious.

"He was going to use me for an experiment. That's why he had me kidnapped. He was going to...well, essentially he was planning on creating another Sephiroth. He had a vial of JENOVA cells and he was about to start..." She hesitated, then decided to omit the gritty details of what Hojo was going to do to her. "Sephiroth was being held in the lab too. I don't know how Hojo got him and held him, but he broke out while Hojo was talking to me."

"Do you think he planned that?" Vincent asked.

"Yes. He's very opposed to genetic experiments. He overheard Hojo talking to me, so he decided to stop him," Tifa answered. She rubbed her head, recalling the incident in Icicle. It seemed like it had happened three years ago, rather than three days ago.

"But why would Sephiroth bother with you? Why didn't he just kill Hojo?" Yuffie asked, confused.

"Because," Tifa murmured, "Hojo is his father."

"Well, so? Why would that stop him?" Cloud asked, frowning.

"He draws the line at killing his father, I guess. That's what he told me."

"I don't buy it," Cloud answered, the frown turning into a scowl. "There's no line Sephiroth wouldn't cross."

"You're wrong," Tifa argued, shaking her head. "He's got boundaries, Cloud. He won't kill his father, and he won't allow Hojo to experiment on humans."

"Sounds like a conflict of interests," Yuffie commented.

"We have to stop Hojo," Tifa continued. "The man is insane."

"You just spent three days with Sephiroth and you're worried about Hojo?" Cloud was incredulous. "I'll admit that we have to stop Hojo, but Tifa...don't you think maybe we ought to be focused on what Sephiroth is up to?"

"Cloud, think about it. He let me go," Tifa said quietly. "He's not up to anything, not right now. I'm not saying we shouldn't be worried about what he's going to do. I'm just saying he's not our biggest problem."

"Did he give you his coat?" Vincent asked suddenly. Tifa looked down at herself and blushed. She was still wearing Sephiroth's black trench coat. Funny, it almost felt as though the thing belonged to her now.

"I guess he did," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Check the pockets," Vincent suggested. "He may have left you something."

Cloud and Yuffie gaped at him. Vincent merely stared at Tifa expectantly. Tifa let out a heavy sigh, but complied, rifling through the pockets of the coat. Her hand stopped when she felt a thin sheaf of paper in the right breast pocket. Slowly she pulled it out and stared at it dumbly.

"Read it," Cloud prompted her sharply. Tifa shot him an exasperated look and unfolded the piece of paper. She read it to herself, her stomach churning.

_Tifa,_

_Take care of yourself. Do not do anything careless or stupid. I will not be impressed if you get yourself hurt or killed. _

_I apologize for everything I have done to you. I would give my life to take it back, you must believe me. But there is nothing I can do, except apologize and hope you accept it as sincere._

_I never thought another person would influence my actions...but I was wrong. I cannot hurt you. It pleases me to make you smile. The only solution I can see to my situation is to disappear. I refuse to cause you anymore grief. Tell your friends about Hojo. He must be stopped, but I cannot be involved. Don't worry about me._

_Sephiroth_

_p.s._

_Tell Cloud I send my regards._

"What's it say?" Cloud asked her urgently. Tifa reread the letter, studied the simple, clear script. Her heart was picking up speed in her chest.

"It's an apology," she said faintly.

"What?"

"It's an apology. He wants me to know he's sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Cloud asked in amazement.

"Everything." She felt faint and dizzy.

"It's a trick," Cloud said sharply. "He's playing with us."

"No. He's sorry, and he's...he's going to disappear." She handed the letter to Cloud, who read it, his eyes wide.

"You actually believe this?" he asked her angrily. "Tifa, this is...come on. And why would you worry about him? Tifa..." He looked to be on the verge of hysterics.

"Calm down, Cloud," Vincent spoke up. He was still staring at Tifa, and it was making her extremely uncomfortable. "Tifa is right. We must focus on finding Hojo."

"Anyone want my opinion?" Yuffie asked, glancing between Tifa and Cloud nervously.

"No," Vincent told her. Yuffie scowled back at him.

"I think we should leave Tifa alone," she snapped back. Tifa flashed the young ninja a grateful smile.

"I agree," Vincent replied placidly. Yuffie rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Cloud, let's go call Reeve," she added. Cloud handed Tifa the letter. His expression was extremely distressed. Tifa pocketed the letter without glancing at it.

"Get some rest, Tifa," he muttered, walking out of the room and towards the cockpit. Yuffie trailed after him, but Vincent did not stand up.

"Vincent?"

"Go on Yuffie. I want a word with Tifa," Vincent answered in a tone that left no room for argument. Yuffie sighed and shot Tifa an apologetic look, then left.

Tifa stared down at her empty plate. "What is it, Vincent?" she asked timidly, refusing to look up at him.

"I would like to ask you a question, Tifa. You don't have to answer," he said patiently.

"Ok."

"Do you believe Sephiroth?"

She looked up at him, startled. He searched her face, as though trying to pull her thoughts right out of her head. "Does it matter?" she asked finally.

Vincent shrugged. "I imagine it matters to you."

Tifa hesitated. If Cloud had pressed the subject, she wouldn't have answered. She didn't want to share her feelings about Sephiroth with anyone at this point; she wasn't exactly clear on how she felt. She was exhausted and confused. The fact that Sephiroth had simply left her for Cloud to find hadn't done anything to straighten out her opinion of the man, either.

"I don't know," she said faintly. It was the most honest reply she could give him.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts, then." Vincent moved towards the door. He glanced back at her thoughtfully before walking out.

Tifa groaned and pulled the letter out of her pocket. Now that she was alone, she took her time reading the note, studying every sentence, every word. With every rereading her confusion grew, rising in her chest like a wave and crashing around inside her.


	5. The Syndrome Switch

**A/N: Thank you to all who left feedback. I'm so pleased to know that there are people enjoying this story. **

**Now, finally, a chapter from Sephiroth's perspective. He's so much fun to work with! Though, it was hard not to make him angsty. The temptation is always there. **

**Hope you like!**

**Peace.**

* * *

**Chapter #5**

**The Syndrome Switch**

Guilt was a funny thing. They way it settled in your chest and slowly suffocated you as it swelled and swelled. And the more aware you became of it, the worse it got. Like a malignant tumor.

He hated it.

He took his frustration out on his surroundings. He attacked the great stone houses, running his sword through them effortlessly, cutting them down. It didn't take long for him to grow bored with destroying the Forgotten City, so he scaled one of the few untouched structures and watched the eastern horizon grow steadily lighter, his mind spinning like the blades of a helicopter.

Guilt. Self-disgust. Regret. Emotions he'd long forgotten, feelings he'd never paid any attention to before...before what? Seeing Tifa Lockhart strapped down to a metal operating table? Seeing the way she shivered in the cold? Or having her curled up against him, safe and secure as she slept?

How quickly his life had been turned on its head. Three days. He marvelled over the speed at which it had happened, more than he did that it had happened at all. But it frustrated him that he couldn't pin down the exact moment. There had to be one...a flash of realization, a moment of clarity, something.

Not this...nothingness. No explanation, no point of origin.

Sephiroth sifted through the thoughts in his mind, searching for the hatred, the old anger, trying to recall it, wanting the familiar feel of it. He found it buried deep under the guilt and self-loathing, intact after all. But it too seemed altered, somehow. One person, one insignificant young woman, had managed to wield such enormous influence over him...it was disconcerting. It was pathetic. It disgusted him on the deepest level...it went against everything he felt he was.

And yet, it felt so good. He welcomed the unfamiliar and conflicting feelings, finding them preferable to the consuming hatred he was so accustomed to. Painful, yes, but preferable.

The sun finally broke over the horizon, spreading its dazzling golden light across his face. Sephiroth tilted his head up and closed his eyes, letting the light warm his eyelids. He tried to push these new feelings aside- the confusion, the guilt, the strange ache in his chest, the loneliness- but they would not budge. He would almost welcome the black, all-consuming hate. He knew what to do with hate. Knew how to use it, wield it to his advantage and others' detriment.

It had been incredibly difficult to leave Tifa. He knew it was for the best, of course. She didn't need him around, didn't want him around. She could go back to her life in Edge, back to Cloud. She would be safe. She would be happy.

And Sephiroth supposed he fully deserved the bizarre, unfamiliar pain that had settled in his chest sometime yesterday.

Still...he had followed her to that airship. He had seen that look on her face when she'd glanced back, away from her friends. She wanted to see him. But was it right for her to want that? Was it right for _him _to want it? And why did it matter, the morality of it?

The questions. They would drive him mad. If he wasn't mad already; he had to admit, the past...five years? Three years? They were muddy, the memories blurred. It was like looking at his reflection in water, but a wave of ripples kept distorting the image. As soon as it began to settle, to become clear, it blurred yet again. The pulsing anger, ever-present, was gone. It had been with him, had been a part of him, for so long. The knowledge of what had to be done, that too had evaporated from his mind. Gone.

Tifa Lockhart had done something to him.

He couldn't stop himself. He had to ensure she was safe.

Sephiroth went to Edge. It was a relief to travel at his own pace, not having someone slowing him down anymore, but the relief was tinged with sadness and a strange sort of nostalgia. He found himself missing her. He missed the sound of another pair of feet, the sound of another heart beating close by. He wished she was here to talk to him, even to talk about mundane little things or to complain or whine about how awful he was. He missed her voice.

He hadn't lied to Tifa when he told her he enjoyed her company.

He arrived in Edge the next evening, under the cover of darkness. Seventh Heaven wasn't difficult to find. There were two people standing outside the bar, arguing. Sephiroth hid himself in an alley between two buildings across the street and watched.

Cloud Strife and Tifa.

Why were they fighting? They were friends, weren't they? He listened carefully, trying to pick out what they were saying. Their voices were hushed, whispering.

"Something's not right here, Tifa...you?"

"...about it, Cloud. Just let it go."

"No, I'm not letting it go. I'm going to find him."

"What about Hojo?"

"Let the WRO handle that."

"...already made up your mind, so just go then!"

"Tifa..."

"Just go! You're wasting your time...won't find him, he doesn't want to be found!"

"Fine!"

"Go, then!"

"I am!"

The argument had escalated into a shouting match. The two friends were facing each other. Cloud's face was set and sullen, and Tifa looked furious. More furious than she'd ever been while in Sephiroth's company. That pleased him, somehow, on a very basic level.

"You're not going to find him!"

"I'm going to try, that's more than you can say!"

"There's no point in trying, Cloud! You won't find him!"

"I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him!"

"Yeah, well... good luck with that!"

Cloud spun around and stomped towards a large motorcycle. Tifa merely stood on the sidewalk, her hands placed on her shapely hips, and watched him leave. When the bike disappeared down the street, she turned and stormed back into her bar, slamming the door behind her.

Sephiroth moved quickly, bolting across the street and scaling the building that Tifa had entered. He assumed she lived on the second floor, above her bar. He would wait for her there, and talk to her. Just briefly.

Just to make sure she was all right.

He slid through one of the windows easily. The room he found himself in was cluttered with paperwork and files. There was a desk with a computer on it, and beside the computer was a framed picture.

Sephiroth picked it up carefully and studied the photograph. A ragtag group of friends...what did they call themselves? Avalanche? Cloud looked relatively happy. Tifa was beaming, a wide grin stretched across her face. He put the picture back in its place and moved into the next room. The living room, with two mismatched chairs and a battered sofa.

The door burst open, banging against the wall, and Tifa Lockhart stomped into the room, muttering under her breath. She looked up, her burgundy eyes meeting his, and her mouth dropped open.

"You!" She sounded genuinely shocked.

Sephiroth put his hands up in what he hoped was a show of peace. "Me," he agreed softly, searching her face for any hint of what she might be thinking. Because he could never tell, and he was usually quite good at guessing a person's general train of thought. But the way her mind worked was still a mystery to him.

"Cloud's not here."

"I know."

"Oh." She lapsed into silence, her plump mouth set in a confused frown. But she didn't look frightened, and Sephiroth took that as a very good sign. A sign of trust, perhaps.

"I wanted to make sure you were safe." He hated how pathetic his voice sounded...but he couldn't bring himself to be curt with her. Besides, he was technically a guest in her home at the moment- probably an unwelcome one- so he would be as polite as possible.

Tifa finally looked at him. Her eyes reflected suspicion. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know," he answered, smiling. She was so easily provoked by him. He liked that.

"I thought you decided to leave me alone," she continued. "You know...that's really inconsiderate of you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tifa." He searched her face. What could she be thinking? How much animosity did she hold towards him?

"You didn't even give me an explanation! You just took off!" She raised her voice slightly, clearly angry, and somewhat hurt.

"Well..." he began, but she interrupted him, the volume of her voice still rising.

"I mean, what the hell! I think I deserve an explanation. You're being...weird!"

"How am I supposed to be?" He tried unsuccessfully to not sound irritated.

"I don't know..." She laughed and sat down on the sofa. Clearly she was much more comfortable around him than she had been several days ago. "So you came to check up on me."

"Yes."

"That's...thoughtful."

"Make up your mind, Tifa. I thought I was inconsiderate," he answered, sitting beside her at a safe distance. She wouldn't be quite _that_ comfortable with him.

"Make up _your_ mind," she grumbled. Then her expression grew serious. "You're not looking for Cloud?"

"No."

"Okay." She visibly relaxed. "So...you don't want to kill him?"

Sephiroth shook his head. He did not want to talk about the man who'd done him in three times now. "I saw you arguing with him."

"Oh, that." Tifa waved her hand at the air. "He thinks he's going to hunt you down and finish the job."

"And you don't think he can?" he asked, amused.

"I don't think he should, never mind the fact that he probably can't."

"I don't understand."

"That makes the two of us." She uttered an uneasy laugh. "I've been thinking, you know..."

"Never a good thing."

"Let me finish! You always interrupt me."

"Perhaps I'm afraid of what you might say," Sephiroth answered, turning his gaze to the floor. He wanted to hear what she was thinking, of course, but at the same time, he didn't. It might be bad. She might be thinking exactly what she ought to think; that he deserved to die, that there was no possibility of her ever even tolerating him, let alone...what? Liking him?

"Knowing you're sorry isn't enough for me," Tifa said quietly. "I want to know why."

"That wasn't what I thought you meant by deserving an explanation."

"What did you think I meant?"

"Why does Cloud want to kill me?"

Tifa thought about it for a moment. "I think he feels like he has to."

"It's amazing how people can justify their actions."

"Can you justify what _you_ did?"

"While I was doing it I could." Sephiroth sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. He forced the words out of his mouth with great difficulty. "I felt my actions were completely justified. I compared what the world had done to me with what I wanted to do... I never questioned myself. Why would I? I was created to be destructive. It's my birthright. The JENOVA cells in my body are completely fused with my DNA. I'm as alien as I am human."

Tifa's hand grazed his shoulder, and he shifted his gaze to meet hers. "Thank you for coming here," she said softly.

He blinked, surprised. "No, I shouldn't have."

"Then why did you?" Her hand rested on his shoulder, comforting, bordering on sympathetic.

"It isn't right for me to expect anything from you."

"Oh." Her voice became suddenly cheerful. "So you want something from me." Her hand dropped back to her lap.

"No...no, I don't," Sephiroth said quickly, but he knew it was too late to retract that statement.

"No, you do. So what do you want from me?" Tifa asked. Her voice was playful, almost teasing.

"Tifa, this is not how you should be reacting." He got to his feet and moved towards the window, looking down at the quiet, dimly lit street. Frustration rose in his chest as he spoke. "I can accept that things have changed for me. But I..."

"Don't tell me how I should feel." The humour vanished from her voice.

"I wasn't..."

"Maybe I want to forgive you."

"Tifa..." He was beyond alarmed now, almost frightened. A new kind of fear, one he'd never felt before. That strange ache in his chest.

"What if I do? Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes!" he snapped, turning back to her. She watched him resentfully. "Yes, that would be terrible, and I don't want to hear that there's even a remote possibility!"

Tifa leapt to her feet and moved in front of him. She searched his face, emotions flickering in her eyes, one after the other. Anger, fear, hurt...pity? "You know what really scares me, Sephiroth?" She spoke his name purposefully, as though reminding herself of who he was.

"What?"

"I trust you. I believe you. I don't really know why, but I do."

"Tifa..."

"And nothing you say is going to change my mind."

Sephiroth regarded her uncertainly. She smiled, nervous but trying to hide it, then sat down on the couch again, patting the empty space beside her. He joined her on the couch, sitting closer this time. He liked how little distance there was between them, liked the fact that she didn't seem all that afraid of him. Odd, because he used to relish the way people feared him, like an instinctive reaction to his presence...

"Shouldn't you be running your bar?" he asked, watching her.

Tifa smiled vaguely. "Where were we?"

"Tifa...I only wanted to make sure you were safe. Seeing as how you are..."

"Don't go."She said it quickly, then closed her mouth and looked down, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

Sephiroth studied her silently.

_Beautiful. _

He couldn't stop the thought forming in his head. She was undeniably beautiful. And now, sitting so close to her, he began to notice the more subtle things about Tifa Lockhart- the way her mouth twitched when she was fighting a smile, the very faint smattering of freckles on her cheeks, the thick but short scar on her temple, close to her hairline.

"How did that happen?" he asked, looking pointedly at the scar.

"I fell...when I was young. Hiking in the mountains," Tifa answered reluctantly. Obviously she didn't want to talk about it. He felt sorry for asking. "What about you? I don't imagine you've got any scars, do you?" she asked, brushing off the uncomfortable silence that had briefly settled between them.

"You have seen me in my underwear," Sephiroth commented, fighting the urge to smirk at her.

"I wasn't looking!" She sounded indignant, almost insulted.

"Oh?"

"Oh, never mind." Tifa reached around and untied her apron, setting it on the arm of the sofa. The pockets jingled with change. "So. Are you okay?"

He was not in a word-mincing type of mood. "No."

"Oh. Anything I can do?"

The pain in his chest flared, like a firecracker going off in the dark. "No, Tifa. Please, you mustn't...do anything for me. _Anything_," he reiterated fiercely.

"Will you at least tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm confused." Sephiroth put his head in his hands, hiding his face from her. His hair fell forward, a barrier between himself in the world, a protective curtain to hide behind. His stomach felt oddly queasy.

Tifa was silent for a moment. When she spoke, there was a tremor in her voice. "I forgive you."

"Don't be ridiculous." He lifted his head and glared at her. She refused to look at him, instead fixing her gaze across the room. "Tifa!" he snapped, drawing her attention back to him. "_Don't do this to me_."

"Do what?" she asked slowly.

"I don't want your forgiveness."

"It doesn't mean anything to you?"

"No... quite the contrary... it means everything to me, and I don't...I don't want to entertain the possibility. Do you understand?" He could scarcely believe that stuttering voice was his. The queasy sensation came over him again, worse this time.

She looked at him pointedly, raising her eyebrows. "Make up your mind."

Sephiroth turned away from her, frustrated. "You drive me crazy."

Tifa uttered a sharp laugh. "You're not exactly a model of sanity anyway."

"I was fine before...before this. I had a purpose," he answered, speaking more to himself now. "Even after dissolving my memories into the lifestream...it was very easy to recall myself, knowing there are so many that hate me. I will never be forgotten...I will never die. The people on this planet refuse to let me go. And it's so easy to use that...hatred is very powerful."

He glanced over at Tifa. She was staring at him intently, hanging on to his every word. When she realized he'd finished talking, she gathered her lustrous hair in one hand and pulled it back. Her eyes grew distant, and she seemed lost for a moment, withdrawn from the world around her.

Sephiroth felt a jolt of concern for the young woman.

His insides started to tingle. He put his hand on his stomach and rubbed it, frowning.

"You okay?" Tifa's voice sounded strangely distant.

"Yes...fine..." he said, struggling to sound normal, not wanting her to worry. He felt too warm, suddenly. Much too warm. Hot. His insides weren't tingling anymore- they were burning. He doubled over automatically, clutching his stomach, very nearly crying out from the pain.

"Sephiroth?" Distant. She sounded so distant. Her hand on his forehead felt pleasantly cool.

He retched violently- sticky black fluid that burned his throat and mouth. It flew everywhere, and he heard Tifa cry out. He tried to breathe, tried to fight the urge to vomit, and choked briefly before retching again. A plastic pail was forced in front of him, a cool, damp cloth pressed against his forehead, and he heard Tifa murmuring in his ear, gentle, concerned. The sickly sound of vomit splashing against plastic.

The pain subsided as quickly as it had appeared. He straightened slowly, expecting it to come back. But it was gone.

"You're sick," Tifa murmured.

He looked at her blearily, his vision out of focus.

"I don't get sick."

She laughed, though not out of amusement. "You just hurled all over my living room floor. Trust me, you're definitely sick."

He sneered, pushing her hand off of his forehead. He hated the idea that she might think him weak, in any way. He despised weakness, especially in himself. "It was nothing."

Tifa stood and disappeared for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he'd offended her. But she reappeared with a pail of soapy water and a rag, and went about scrubbing the mess he'd made on the floor.

"I wouldn't call this nothing," she commented, swiping at the black gunk with her finger. "Oww!"

He glanced down at her. She was rinsing off her hands, her face screwed up with pain.

"What is it?"

"It burns!" Tifa showed him her finger. The skin was bright pink where she'd made contact with the stuff. "What is this? What's wrong with you?"

Her concern soothed him, and he felt bad for being short with her earlier. She only meant to help, after all, and what had he done? Pushed her away, because of his pride.

"If I knew, I would certainly tell you."

"Oh." Tifa finished cleaning up, then sat beside him, her eyes roving across his face as though she might find the answer just by looking at him.

"You mustn't worry about me." He wanted to touch her, wanted to brush her hair out of her face or rest a hand on her slender shoulder, but Sephiroth realized that he'd lost any sense of where his boundaries were when interacting with Tifa.

He reached his hand out slowly, hesitating. Tifa glanced at his hand hovering over her shoulder, and flashed him a quizzical smile.

"You're not _afraid_ of me, are you?"

"No. I just..." He cautiously touched her shoulder with his fingertips. A small grin made its way across Tifa's face. He rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You aren't afraid of me?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I should be, though."

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "Yes, you should be."

Her burgundy eyes were unreadable as she took the pail from him and peered inside it. The noxious black vomit was slowly dissolving the plastic bottom. Her eyes raked his face once more, but she shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back with a glass bottle.

"Here. It should settle your stomach."

Sephiroth took the bottle from her- the glass was pleasantly cool in his hands. He unscrewed the cap, and the beverage fizzed lightly. A citrusy scent drifted out of the bottle. He took a drink to wash away the burning in his throat.

"Better?"

Her concern was like a blanket- he wanted to wrap himself in it, drift off into sleep, let the world fade away as he retreated into blackness. He found it also eased the ache in his chest. "Yes. Thank you."

She shrugged, as though it was nothing. Sephiroth supposed it probably _was_ nothing, at least to her. She was quick to forgive (too quick, he thought), and altruism seemed almost instinctive for her, a gut reaction more than a conscious effort. She probably couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to, though he would have gladly let her. He deserved no less. They were in the same boat, in that respect. Natural enemies, yet unwilling to obey the laws of nature.

He sipped at his drink.

"It's funny," Tifa mused, her voice slicing through his thoughts like a knife through butter. "I think you're starting to grow on me." Her eyes found his and she smiled rather ruefully.

"Am I?" He didn't bother masking his shock.

"Yeah. In a way. Funny, but disturbing."

"Perhaps we're both disturbed."

She laughed. He liked making her laugh. It caused a weird bubbling feeling in his stomach, almost like the soda she'd given him.

"Yeah, maybe. So... now what?"

Sephiroth shrugged, drumming his fingers on his knee. He didn't know. He found the idea of leaving her almost physically painful. But what could he do? Where would he go? "I don't know."

"Promise me something." She fixed her eyes on his, her expression determined, resolute.

"What?"

"Promise me you really don't have some diabolical scheme being cooked up in that head of yours."

Sephiroth laughed. She could forgive him, she could be concerned for him when he showed signs of weakness, she could fetch him a drink to wash away the sickness in his throat, but underneath it all, Tifa Lockhart couldn't help but be suspicious of him.

"Tifa, if I was cooking up a... how did you put it? Diabolical scheme... ? Do you really think I would be sitting here wasting precious time drinking a soda and talking about myself?" He raised an eyebrow at her and waited for a response.

"Good point," she conceded with a laugh.

"I promise," he added quietly.

Tifa smiled, clearly satisfied. "Good. Can I ask you something?"

"I suppose," he said warily.

"You said you were fine before this. What do you mean by this?"

Sephiroth finished off his soda and set it on the coffee table in front of them. He thought through his answer very carefully, wanting her to understand. "I'm... tired, Tifa. Not physically tired... just tired. Tired of hating, tired of the desire for... destruction. It might be my purpose in life, but does that mean I should follow it? Can I not choose? I want to have the choice. Yet... before, when all I had was hatred... it was so simple. And that made it all the more appealing. Hatred it easy, Tifa. Easy, but cowardly. And so I'm choosing to not hate. I am finished with it. And now..."

He paused to take a deep breath. It had to be said, though he despised himself for admitting it. "Now I'm frightened. What am I to do with myself, with my existence?"

"You can be better." Tifa's voice was gentle, kind, supportive. He thought she would laugh at him, mock him perhaps. He never thought she would have a word of encouragement.

Sephiroth found himself wondering which one of them had actually been held hostage by the other.

He suspected she had more to say, but their heavy conversation was broken by the shrill and persistent ring of a cell phone.


	6. The Wanderer

**A/N: There's an awful lot of stuff crammed into this chapter. I hope you like it. Thank you so much to those who left feedback.**

**Love and peace.**

* * *

**Chapter #6**

**The Wanderer**

_This is it_, she thought, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the name flashing across her caller I.D. It could only mean one thing, if _he_ was calling her. He had information about either Hojo or Sephiroth.

She flipped her phone open. "Vincent."

"I've some information Cloud might be interested in." Her friend's quiet baritone voice gave nothing away.

"What is it?"

"Not over the phone," he said firmly. "Is he there?"

"No."

"He won't answer his phone."

That didn't surprise her. Cloud had a habit of cutting his friends out when he was trying to deal with something. "He told me he was going out to look for Sephiroth." Her eyes flickered over to the subject in question. He feigned disinterest, but she saw his mouth twitch slightly.

"Tifa." Vincent's voice sounded strangely anxious. "Do you know where Sephiroth might be? Did he say anything, hint at anything? Even the most insignificant piece of information..." He trailed off.

She'd never heard him sound this agitated before. With Sephiroth sitting just five inches away from her, Tifa had the sudden urge to tell Vincent everything. The tone of his voice set her on edge, made her doubt herself. Despite all the progress she felt she'd made with the ex-SOLDIER, she knew she had to keep in mind the possibility that he could still be dangerous.

"Did he talk about SOLDIER?" Vincent asked urgently.

She cast her mind back through all the conversations she'd had with Sephiroth. "Yeah, but not much."

"Did he mention anything about the Jenova Project?"

"I don't think so. He..."

"Project S?"

"No. Vincent..."

"Project G?"

"No, he didn't. Vincent, what's going on?" Her voice cracked slightly.

"I'll find Cloud."

The line went dead. Tifa set her phone down and chanced a glance at Sephiroth. His brilliant green eyes were wide, as though he'd just remembered something important. He slumped back into the sofa.

"I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Nothing." He looked up at her. "Don't worry, Tifa. It's late. You should get some rest."

Tifa stared at him incredulously. Surely he didn't expect her to just go to bed now, after the conversation she'd just had with Vincent? "Sephiroth? Do you know what Project G is?"

He got to his feet, looking very much revitalized. "I must leave now."

"You're leaving? But..." She struggled to find the right words for the emotions broiling in her chest.

"If I am overstepping my bounds here, then I apologize. But I would like your phone number." He waited patiently. Tifa gaped at him.

"That's it? You're just..."

"Leaving, yes." Sephiroth smiled, as though sharing a private joke with himself. When he noticed Tifa's displeasure, the smile vanished and he laid a large hand on her shoulder. "I would like to keep in contact with you, if you don't mind."

Tifa shook her head in amazement. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he was just going to waltz out of here as easily as he'd waltzed in. "I'll write down my number," she said, not wanting to be cut off from him completely.

He laughed, a loud rippling laugh that she'd never heard before. "No need. Tell it to me, and I will remember."

"I won't get any sleep tonight," she grumbled. "It's 416 879 3167."

Sephiroth smiled and squeezed her shoulder. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but a delicious numbness was spreading through Tifa's body and the world was receding at an alarming rate. She felt her eyelids droop.

"Hey! You jerk..." The world slipped away, and Tifa fell into the familiar dark, dreamless slumber of a sleep spell. Her last thought was that the next time she saw him, she would take that materia away from him.

* * *

She raised her arms above her head and pointed her feet, stretching her entire body luxuriously. Warm sunlight played across the couch that she'd slept on, licking her face with pleasant heat. Tifa blinked slowly, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the light, and sat up. The blanket that somebody had covered her with slid down to her waist. She yawned and twirled the blanket around her shoulders, wrapping it around her slight frame, then went to the kitchen to make coffee.

Nobody home. It felt strange to wake up to such a quiet house. No kids to feed, no Cloud to make breakfast for. Tifa turned the coffee maker on, then padded down the hall to the bathroom, discarding her blanket on the way.

She peeked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a wild, tangled mess. Other than that, she looked quite well-rested. There was something different about her face, though. Something that hadn't been there yesterday. Tifa frowned, studying herself, searching for the detail that she knew had to be somewhere- in her eyes, or her mouth, or her eyebrows even. But the reflection gazing back at her showed nothing she hadn't seen before.

And yet, she looked different. The same, but different.

Tifa gave herself a little shake and began cleaning up. She combed out her hair, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Then she returned to the kitchen for a large cup of coffee.

Damn that man.

Sephiroth.

The jerk.

She kicked the leg of her table in frustration, rattling the already beat-up piece of furniture. She didn't like being kept out of the action, and Tifa had a sneaking suspicion that Sephiroth was doing just that. She knew he knew more about what was going on than he let on. And though he'd claimed in his letter to her that he wouldn't have anything to do with Hojo, Tifa was certain that he wouldn't be able to resist getting involved.

And she was supposed to just sit here?

She grabbed the phone and dialled Vincent's number jerkily.

"Hello Tifa. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to know what's going on. Did you find Cloud?"

"Cloud is in Cosmo Canyon. He's safe."

Why wouldn't he be safe? "Oh."

"May I ask why you called?" Vincent's tone was as close to curious as she'd ever heard it.

"I just..." Tifa wanted nothing more in that moment than to tell him. Vincent would understand, wouldn't he? But she dismissed it as a fleeting and silly urge. Now was not the time to divulge. "Is there anything I can do, Vincent? I'm just sitting here at home, while you and Cloud are out there doing something, and..."

He cut her off. "There _is_ something you can do, Tifa."

"What is it?" Her heart skipped with excitement.

"Relax. Don't worry."

She had the strangest desire to scream into her phone. "But Vincent, I want to help."

"Cloud and I are merely going through mouldy old records from Shinra's Science Department. I will call you if something comes up."

"I thought Cloud was looking for Sephiroth."

"He was. I found him in the Sleeping Forest. Somebody in Bone Village reportedly saw Sephiroth a few days ago. I convinced Cloud to return with me to Cosmo Canyon. There is much we don't know about the situation."

Tifa rubbed her fingers against her temple in a sow circular motion. "Oh. Okay."

"If anything unusual happens, if you see or hear of anything, please call me."

"Okay." She had a feeling this conversation was over. And she was right. Vincent hung up on her. She knew he didn't mean to be rude- the man just had no sense of telephone etiquette, but she bristled with indignation anyhow.

Tifa set her phone down and scowled into her cup of coffee.

_There is much we don't know..._

She wondered if Vincent was talking about Sephiroth or Hojo. Or perhaps both. Or neither. And what did Cloud really have to go on? To her knowledge, she was the only one who'd actually seen Sephiroth. It seemed to her that Cloud and Vincent were grasping at straws. She recalled her conversation with the ex-Turk last night. He'd mentioned something about Project G, but Tifa had no idea what that meant. Or Project S. The Jenova Project, however... she was quite familiar with that.

Tifa sighed. She knew part of her frustration had nothing to do with being left out of the loop. No, it had to do with Sephiroth. She could admit, at least to herself, that she was scared for him. After the long and occasionally painful conversation they'd had yesterday, she found herself not just tolerating the man, but genuinely enjoying his company. He intrigued her. Her fear of him remained, not in her mind but on a deeper level, an instinctual fear that she had to wrestle with to keep in check.

She didn't want him to get hurt.

It was a silly thought. He was nigh invincible, wasn't he? What could hurt him? _Who_ could hurt him?

He could hurt himself. She worried about his mental health, though the more time she spent with him, the saner he seemed to be. But Tifa was terrified of the idea that he might spiral back into madness- getting involved with Hojo, the Jenova Project... it seemed to her that those things had the potential to push the ex-SOLDIER off the deep end once more.

Tifa laid her head in her arms. Too much had happened, too quickly. She felt vaguely nauseas thinking about it, as though suffering from motion sickness or vertigo. It was still so disorienting to acknowledge that Sephiroth, the scourge of the planet, was alive. And benevolent, at least towards her. If somebody had told her a week ago what would happen over the next seven days, she would have declared that somebody completely insane. She would have laughed.

She laughed to herself now. Finding the best in situations happened to be one of her greatest virtues. Tifa found humour in the relationship she'd developed with the most hated man on the planet. The both of them were so full of emotions, many of them volatile, and their past interactions had been the stuff nightmares were made of. He killed her father. He nearly killed her, and she had the scar to prove it. Really, it was astounding that they could hold a civil conversation. Not just civil, though. Friendly.

She was friends with Sephiroth.

Pure lunacy.

Tifa let out another quiet laugh.

"Is your coffee that amusing, my dear?"

She jumped out of her seat and into a fighting position, a shot of adrenaline racing through her veins like fire, sharpening her senses and dulling down her pain receptors. She half-expected to see Sephiroth, standing there with that amused little half-smile on his face. But the intruder in her kitchen was a stranger.

He quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow, and smiled.

Tifa backed away, breathing in deep, slow breaths, preparing herself for a great deal of physical exertion.

He was tall, well-muscled, with a shock of fine auburn hair and blue eyes that held the tell-tale glow of a mako infusion. He had a sword slung across his back, and most disturbing of all, a large raven-black wing protruding from behind his left shoulder.

He extended his arms, apparently in a show of peace.

She braced herself for a fight.

"Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return. Hello," the man added, then laughed. "Don't look so fierce."

She didn't quite know what to make of him, and wondered if somebody had slipped a hallucinogen into her coffee. "Who are you?"

His lone black wing flared out, and Tifa jumped backwards, her elbow striking the kitchen counter. In her keyed-up state, she didn't even feel it, and held her stance though her back was pressed against the counter. She was trapped.

"You don't know?" His handsome face twisted with indignation.

"Why would I?"

He flicked his auburn hair out of his face. "Genesis Rhapsodos, ex-SOLDIER, first class. Insulted, if you must know. Didn't you ever read the newspapers?"

Tifa tilted her head and eyed him up. Despite his bizarre manner and intimidating appearance, she was curious. He expected her to know him by sight, and she wondered why. "What's that got to do with anything?"

He sighed and dropped his arms. His wing drooped slightly, as though it too was disappointed. "Never mind."

"What do you want?" She didn't let her guard down. Years of experience had hardwired her to be ready for a fight in a matter of seconds. And he was an ex-SOLDIER. That alone sent warning signals rocketing around her brain.

His mako eyes flickered. "The wandering soul knows no rest."

Thoroughly disturbed as she was, Tifa noticed that he had an odd way of speaking, as though no thought went behind the words he spoke- it was like he was reciting lines, not actually talking. His name, unusual as it was, did sound familiar, and she felt certain she'd heard it before. "Genesis?"

His black wing flared out again. "Yes."

"What do you want?" she asked again.

"It is not yet time for slumber. What I want is honour, and salvation. Tell me, what do _you_ want?" He crossed his arms and regarded her expectantly.

Tifa scowled at him. "I want to know what you're doing in my home."

"What are you going to do? Fight me?" He tilted his head and an arrogant smile flashed across his face.

Tifa ignored the instinct to back away, and instead stepped closer to him. "If I have to."

Genesis Rhapsodos shrugged. "I think you are out of your league."

"Try me," she breathed, bracing herself again. She didn't stand a chance, of course. She knew that. But she would put up a good fight. Her mind went briefly to Sephiroth, and she wished he was here. There was no doubt in her mind he would protect her, if she asked him to.

"I know you. Tifa Lockhart." He turned his back on her and slowly paced the length of her kitchen. His posture was rigid and straight, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "I apologize. It seems I was late getting to Professor Hojo's lab."

Tifa was sure she'd misheard him. "What?"

"He was in a terrible state. Alive, but injured." Genesis held his hands to his face and smiled at her through his fingers. "Somebody took the liberty of removing his right hand. I left him there, having a more interesting prize to pursue. Unfortunately, I was distracted. It seems the Professor was quite intent on having you, because he sent a veritable army of mooks on a wild goose chase through the snow."

"Mooks?" she echoed faintly.

Genesis waved his hand dismissively. "Henchmen, flunkies, what have you. I got rid of them." His eyes gleamed. "I thought he would kill you. I was wrong."

She relaxed slightly while her mind processed this information. He knew her name, he knew about Sephiroth, and he knew about Hojo. It should have come as a shock, but Tifa had been put in many a strange and unusual situations, not the least being held captive by a mad scientist, and so this stranger knowing about recent events didn't seem all that bizarre to her. "You mean Sephiroth, right?"

"May I have a cup?" He gestured to the coffee pot.

Tifa kept a wary eye on him as she fixed him a cup of coffee. He sat at her kitchen table- the old wooden chair groaned under his weight- and accepted the steaming mug from her.

"You know Sephiroth?" she asked.

Genesis smiled. He was very good-looking, his cheekbones finely chiselled, his lips perfectly plump and curved. There was something quite aristocratic about his appearance. "I know him well."

Tifa fidgeted. She wanted to ask him what he knew, but instinct, something she had very little control over, told her to be wary of this man. He regarded her with a penetrating stare, like a cat watching a bird. She shifted in her chair and looked away.

"You thought he was going to kill me?"

"Didn't you? But good for him, he seems to have his head screwed on straight again."

Despite her nerves, or maybe because of them, Tifa laughed. "I guess so."

"When I returned to Icicle, the laboratory was deserted. Professor Hojo had fled, to where I do not know." Genesis took a long, pondering sip of coffee and sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. "I have come to enquire. Are you all right?"

She choked on a hot mouthful of coffee. "You came to...to check on me?" He nodded, his eyes still closed. Tifa shook her head in disbelief. "Why?"

Genesis opened his eyes, but didn't look at her. His gaze drifted around the kitchen, taking in every detail- memorizing it, Tifa thought, though she didn't know how she knew that. "It is of importance to me, what Professor Hojo does. With every step I come closer to the truth. I feel it in the marrow of my bones." His eyes turned fierce. "He will not triumph. I will see to it personally that the scientist meets a tragic and painful end."

"If you want to kill Hojo, why didn't you do it when you had the chance?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"It is not that simple, as you well know. Some things refuse to die."

She noticed he didn't say "people."

"Do you know where Sephiroth is?"

He fixed his eyes on hers, and his delicate mouth stretched into a smile. "Why do you ask? Are you concerned for him? If you are, you mustn't worry. He is quite capable."

"But Hojo..."

"Can do him harm, I will admit. But Sephiroth is not after Hojo."

"Then what is he after?"

The man's eyes burned with some fervent emotion she couldn't identify. "Me."

"You? Why you? Does he want to kill you?" Tifa leaned forward, her fears forgotten. She waited for him to answer, but he drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes growing distant once more. "How do you know him?" she pressed impatiently.

"We are friends." Genesis found something interesting in his coffee cup. He refused to look at her. Tifa huffed indignantly.

"So? Why don't you go to him?"

"I think he might blame me."

"Blame you for what?"

Genesis sighed. He looked suddenly weary. "For everything. I never meant for it to come to what it did. I only wanted to save myself. I thought Sephiroth was the answer. But now I know the truth. All three of us are on the same side of the equation. He is not the answer, Angeal was not the answer, and I am most _definitely_ not the answer. And so the question remains unsolved."

To this strange diatribe, Tifa didn't know what to say. She hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about. "I don't understand," she said finally.

"Jenova. The calamity from the skies. Some believe she was simply a virus spread by a benign alien creature. Or was it the creature herself? Is it possible there is an entire race of her kind, floating around the universe, infecting planet after planet? There is a theory that Jenova infiltrates each planet's residents, masking herself as one of them, and causes them to destroy each other."

"That's why Shinra thought she was an Ancient," Tifa said. She didn't know much about Jenova. She wondered where Genesis had learned all of this, and why.

"Indeed, many thought so." He considered Tifa for a moment, then added, "But not all. Some knew the truth, even before the Jenova Project began."

"You said Sephiroth might blame you for everything. What do you mean?"

"His descent into madness, of course. The Reunion, Meteorfall, Geostigma."

"Why would Sephiroth blame you for everything he's done?"

"Because it was I who told him the truth. That day in Nibelheim, at the reactor. I told him everything. He went to the Shinra mansion then, into the basement, and read the research files about Jenova, about himself. He realized I was right."

"You were there? You were in Nibelheim when he burned it down?" Tifa whispered, searching this strange man's face.

He nodded gravely. "I was."

"How did you know? About Jenova, and Sephiroth?"

Genesis stood. He moved with a fluid elegance that masked the strength Tifa knew must be there. "Because like Sephiroth, I am a product of the Jenova Project. It had two teams of researchers. They were quite competitive, racing to build the perfect prototype, a human with the power of an Ancient. Project G and Project S, they were dubbed. I was the first, the very first result. Before Sephiroth."

Tifa hung on to his every word, fascinated. He paused, flashing her another smile. "And of course, I have read Shinra's classified research files. So, my dear. You are all right?"

"As all right as I can be," she answered truthfully. That black wing, staring her in the face, defying reality.

Genesis noticed where her gaze had settled, and the wing folded up behind his back. "I'm relieved. It must have been terribly stressful, dealing with Sephiroth. He has a quick temper at the best of times."

Tifa jumped to her new friend's defence instantly. "He's getting better."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence. Genesis finished his coffee and poured himself another cup. Tifa kept a constant eye on him as he mixed two heaping tablespoons of sugar into his coffee. "You were in SOLDIER?" she asked as he rejoined her at the table.

"I was."

"What was he like, before Nibelheim?"

"Sephiroth? He was very professional. It wasn't so much that he kept his personal life separate from his professional life. He simply _had_ no personal life. SOLDIER was all he knew."

Of course. Tifa felt a pang of sadness, but also anger. Shinra, more specifically Hojo, had orchestrated his entire life, from the moment he was conceived until the moment he discovered the truth about his existence. It wasn't fair. He never had a choice in the matter. No wonder he lost it. She didn't want to think about what she would do in his situation... but she could hardly blame him for flipping his lid.

"That's terrible," she said.

"Evil begets evil, of course," Genesis added thoughtfully. "Hojo did an evil, immoral thing when he injected Jenova cells directly into a fetus. He paid dearly for it. He lost his job, his livelihood, his life's work, and possibly his sanity. Though he probably would have lost that regardless."

Tifa was only half-listening to him, still thinking about Sephiroth and Nibelheim, SOLDIER, Hojo... the disastrous chain of events that had started so long ago.

Genesis sat up suddenly and coughed, startling her out of her reverie. "Sephiroth is close by. He is drawn to you." The ex-SOLDIER smiled at her rather grimly. "The fates are cruel."

He moved like lightening, his sword a flash of quicksilver. Tifa found herself in his arms, her back pressed against his chest. He held his sword to her throat.

"Genesis Rhapsodos, I will kill you with my bare hands and feed your internal organs to the stray dogs."

Tifa locked eyes with Sephiroth, who filled the kitchen doorway with his impressive frame. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyes blazed with a ferocity that sent a familiar shudder up her spine.


	7. Breaking Even

**A/N: Behold. There is plot. It took me long enough to get around to it, but here we are. This is a heavy chapter. Hope you like it!**

**Thanks to all who left feedback!**

**Peace**

* * *

**Chapter #7**

**Breaking Even**

"Sephiroth. I need you to listen." His voice drifted over Tifa's head, calm, reasonable. She kept perfectly still, though her heart pounded erratically in her chest, skipping a beat, picking up speed, slowing down.

"Release her." Sephiroth's voice was icy- Tifa hadn't heard him use that tone for quite some time. She was vaguely aware of her body shaking with either shock or fear- she couldn't tell for sure which one it might be. A mixture of both, maybe.

"Hear me out first," Genesis answered. "There's much you need to know."

Sephiroth's eyes searched Tifa's. She tried to look calm, though in truth she was terrified, and disgusted with herself. She knew there was something off about the man now holding a sword to her throat... she knew it, and yet she'd let her guard down. To talk about Sephiroth. She was such a fool. Why did she get so distracted thinking about him that she abandoned all common sense?

"Tifa is not involved. Leave her alone," Sephiroth said to Genesis. Despite her predicament, Tifa felt a twinge of annoyance at being relegated to "not involved."

Genesis sighed in her ear, his breath tickling her cheek, and pulled his sword away from her throat. Being the skilled martial artist that she was, Tifa spun and aimed a right hook at his face with lightning speed. A hand shot out from behind her and caught her wrist in a firm yet careful grip before her fist could make contact with Genesis.

"Tifa, calm down." Sephiroth pulled her back gently. "You're safe now."

"Just let me get a hit on him." She struggled, then collapsed against Sephiroth when it became clear he wasn't going to let her go. She'd forgotten just how strong he was. It took no effort for him to subdue her.

"I doubt you could," Genesis said lazily.

Tifa renewed her efforts to get at him, her anger getting the best of her. She wanted to mop the floor with his face, not just because he'd tricked her, caught her off-guard, but also because she felt humiliated.

"Tifa." Sephiroth pulled her against him in a firm but gentle embrace, his muscular arms wrapping around her shoulders. "Please."

"Astounding. You've learned a new word."

"Quiet."

Tifa slumped into Sephiroth's arms with a groan. "I'm confiscating your materia. That's the last time you put me under a Sleep spell."

He allowed a small chuckle. "I'm only looking after your health." He let her go and turned his attention to Genesis. "You." Again, he used that icy tone that would have made Tifa shiver involuntarily twenty-four hours ago.

Genesis held his hands up. "We need to talk."

"You sack of dirt." There was a soft hiss as Sephiroth pulled his sword out.

Tifa flattened herself against her kitchen wall as Genesis raised his own sword. The two ex-SOLDIERs stared each other down, neither willing to look away. Sephiroth raised his blade- Genesis mimicked him. Sephiroth's biceps strained against his shirtsleeves; for some reason, Tifa took this moment to realize he'd ditched his usual garb in favour of civilian threads. He was dressed in a simple black shirt and basic black jeans. She couldn't decide if it made him look more or less intimidating.

They became a brief blur of movement, and a deafening crack echoed through her apartment as their swords connected. Tifa blinked, and they were squaring off again. She could scarcely believe how fast they were.

"I have no desire to fight you," Genesis stated. He seemed unconcerned with the fact that he was about to get into a swordfight with the greatest SOLDIER on the planet. Tifa would have been shaking in her shoes.

Not that she wasn't.

"Please stop," she said loudly, but both men ignored her. They clashed again, this time overturning her kitchen table. Two coffee mugs hit the floor and shattered, sending lukewarm coffee and chunks of ceramic everywhere.

"You have no desire to lose, you mean," Sephiroth shot back at Genesis.

"My table!" Tifa wailed. Her kitchen burst into a frenzy of clashing swords. She even saw sparks fly from a particularly savage collision. Sephiroth shoved Genesis back against her refrigerator, rattling the ancient appliance and denting the door; the redhead came up with his sword raised over his head, his eyes blazing. Sephiroth blocked him. The metallic _thud_ rattled Tifa's bones.

_To hell with this_, she thought, and scarpered out of her kitchen, into the safety of her den. She heard a spectacular _crash_ and the distinct sound of glass shattering everywhere, and she peeked around the corner to see what had happened.

Plates and bowls everywhere. One of the shelves above her stove had been knocked down. Tifa groaned and retreated back to the couch. She perched on the edge of her seat nervously, wringing her hands and listened to the two ex-SOLDIERs banter back and forth between their scuffles.

"You stuck your nose where it didn't belong." Sephiroth sounded not only angry, but vaguely hurt as well.

"I was dying."

"And you wanted to drag me down with you."

"No, I needed your help."

Tifa gripped her cell phone, her knuckles turning white. She knew she ought to call Vincent. He'd told her to call him if she saw anything strange... and she had two dangerous men, both ex-SOLDIERs, brawling in her kitchen. She was pretty sure that counted as strange.

"I lost my mind in that reactor." Sephiroth's voice turned serrated and raw.

"How could I have known what you would do? You were the strong one. I thought you would shrug it off."

She fantasized for a moment what life would have been like if Sephiroth had simply "shrugged off" the fact that he was the product of experimenting on humans. She would probably still live in Nibelheim. Midgar would still be a glorious, glittering metropolis on top, a pit of filth and despair below the plate. Aerith would still be alive. And Shinra would still be sucking the life out of the planet.

"You were grossly out of line. That was classified information you gave me."

"About yourself! And don't tell me you're bothered by that! I heard a rumour that Nibelheim was going to be your last mission for Shinra. You were going to defect!"

Genesis came flying through the kitchen doorway and skidded on his back across the floor of her den.

Tifa took action. They'd already destroyed one room in her apartment; she was not going to have them trash another. She leapt to her feet and planted herself in front of the stunned man. Sephiroth lurched into the room, his sword held over his head. He brought it halfway down before realizing he was about to slice Tifa in two.

"Tifa." He sucked in a breath, jerking his sword to the side. The tip of his blade punctured the wall of her den, and he had to jerk it out roughly, tearing more of the plaster away.

"Please, don't fight in my house." She held her ground, though her body shook violently and the scar across her torso suddenly burned, as though it remembered the feel of an enormous sword slicing through flesh.

Sephiroth returned his sword to its sheath with a sigh of disappointment. "He deserves it."

Behind her Genesis staggered to his feet. "I don't deny it. My soul, corrupted by vengeance..."

"I don't need to hear you recite that damned poem," Sephiroth cut him off. "Count yourself lucky, Rhapsodos. Yesterday I would have diced you up like the rotten tomato you are."

Tifa put a hand on his tense shoulder. "Calm down."

His eyes shifted from Genesis to her, and it startled Tifa how quickly his expression changed, from furious to slightly rueful.

"You're unharmed?" His voice was gruff, but Tifa didn't miss the concern in his eyes. It stirred something inside her, and she felt a warm tingle somewhere in her chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she reassured him, her fingers tracing the sinewy muscles on his upper arm appreciatively. She realized what she was doing and dropped her hand, embarrassed.

"Of course she's fine." Genesis folded his arms impatiently. "Now, will you listen to me?"

Tifa watched Sephiroth's reaction. She knew him well now, she realized. All right, she didn't know him _that_ well. But he certainly wasn't a stranger to her anymore. Right now he looked conflicted. His mouth twisted into a scowl, but his eyes, focused once more on Genesis, were uncertain. His perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed.

Finally, he sighed and answered, "Very well."

"My dear, do you need to make a call?" Genesis asked her, and Tifa realized she still had her cell phone clutched tightly in her hand. She turned it over, contemplating.

She admitted to herself that she _wanted_ to tell someone. Everything that had happened in the past week sat heavily on her shoulders, weighing her down, and she knew that just sharing what she'd been through would ease some of that weight.

Tifa's mind went to Vincent. Would he understand? Would he even believe her, if she told him she had Sephiroth _and_ Genesis Rhapsodos in her apartment? Would he have the sense not to involve Cloud?

"I don't know." She squirmed uncomfortably as two pairs of intense mako eyes scrutinized her. She decided to wait. First she would hear the conversation Genesis wanted to have with Sephiroth. There was no use in jumping into anything at this point. "No, never mind." She set the phone on her coffee table decisively.

"Let's go," Sephiroth said curtly, beckoning Genesis with one elegant finger.

"What?" Tifa raised her eyebrows. "You're leaving?"

"We need to talk, apparently." He looked as though talking was the last thing he wanted to do.

She frowned at him. "You can talk here."

"Yes, let's do that." Genesis flopped down on the battered sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. He leaned back, crossed his arms behind his head, and flashed Tifa another smile, to show he'd meant no harm in holding a sword to her throat.

"No," Sephiroth growled.

"Yes." Tifa refused to back down. She fixed Sephiroth with the best glare she could muster. "I deserve to know what's going on."

He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Tifa..."

"You owe it to me." She knew she was pushing him, but morbid curiosity had her wondering how far she could do so. His temper might be kept in check by his apparent affection for her, but she guessed there was only so much he could handle.

Sephiroth let out an annoyed huff and took a seat in one of the mismatched armchairs- it groaned under his substantial weight- and Tifa collapsed in the other one. She felt giddy with the realization that she had some power over him in their... friendship? Relationship? She couldn't decide which word better fit what they had. Either way, she was pleased.

"Don't look so smug," Sephiroth cut into her thoughts. "You won't like this conversation."

Tifa shrugged. She couldn't stop the small grin that tugged at her lips.

"Firstly, I would like to apologize. I acted out of selfishness, and it caused you great pain. I never meant to cause you pain, Sephiroth." Genesis spoke slowly, deliberately, and Tifa had the impression that he'd rehearsed this moment in his head over and over again, for quite some time.

Sephiroth gave a dismissive wave of his hand, but Tifa caught the brief flash of emotion on his face.

"Secondly, you'll be happy to know I'm no longer degrading."

"I noticed." He didn't sound happy at all.

"Degrading?" Tifa asked.

"The Jenova cells in my body were breaking down. Degrading. Because of my flawed genetic makeup."

"Continue," Sephiroth said impatiently.

"I have a gift for you. A show of friendship," Genesis answered quietly. He pulled something from the pocket of his long black coat.

Tifa had never seen anything quite like it. It looked like an apple, but the skin was a delicate, ethereal purple. It almost seemed to shimmer, cradled in the ex-SOLDIER's hand. "What is that?"

"A Banora White apple." Genesis tossed it to Sephiroth and watched eagerly as he brought it up to his lips and took a small bite.

Sephiroth's face was unreadable as he slowly devoured the fruit. Tifa couldn't help watching him with fascination- she'd never seen him eat. Now that she thought about it, she wondered whether he even needed food. Funny, how something so simple as eating was rendered bizarre by him doing it. He finished the apple off and stared at Genesis, who watched him expectantly. "Very good," he concluded.

"Good." Genesis looked relieved. "Now we can talk. Though," he scratched his head, "I don't know where to begin."

"With Hojo," Sephiroth suggested.

"Very well. Hojo. His soul was rejected by the lifestream, I believe. I don't know why, but I intend on finding out. Perhaps because he's more monster than human. Regardless, because he carried such a large amount of Jenova cells in his body, he was capable of becoming physically whole again. All he needed was a body that also contained Jenova's cells. There were only four options. Cloud Strife, myself, Weiss, and Shelke."

"Weiss the Immaculate? I thought he was dead," Tifa said, folding her arms across her chest in confusion.

"He is now, for all intents and purposes. Hojo chose Weiss because he was already in a severely weakened state. It's my fault, actually. I should have disposed of Weiss, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I left him in Banora and went to Nibelheim, into the basement in the Shinra mansion. I wanted to learn more about the Jenova Project. I thought there might be a way to remove the cells without damaging Weiss's body."

"You didn't think maybe you were tempting fate by doing that?" Sephiroth asked sharply.

"Of course I was tempting fate." Genesis waved his hand dismissively. "I returned to Banora three days later. Weiss was gone. He'd been in a catatonic state when I left him- how could he simply get up and leave? I searched the area for days, but found nothing." He flicked his hair back and sighed. "Weiss, having Jenova cells in him and being in a state of extreme mental weakness, was a loose cannon. I had to find him."

"Hold on," Tifa cut him off. "Why would he be a loose cannon?"

"The Reunion theory, of course."

"Of course," Sephiroth echoed. Tifa was glad he understood, because she certainly didn't. She didn't understand much of anything at this point.

"It was probably quite easy for Hojo to plant his consciousness in Weiss's mind, considering the mental state Weiss was in."

"Didn't he already do that, though?" Tifa cut in impatiently. She'd heard this story before, from Vincent. Hojo had created a copy of himself on the World Wide Network before Meteorfall, and...

"No. That was merely a copy." Genesis noticed the confusion on Tifa's face, and smiled humourlessly. "When all traces of Hojo were destroyed , including the copy of him that existed in Weiss, his soul should have merged with the lifestream. Obviously that didn't happen."

"If Hojo is controlling Weiss's body, then why does he look like himself? Why doesn't he _look_ like Weiss?"

"Simple. It is the nature of Jenova cells to mutate and change. Hojo seems to have a great deal of control over the cells in his body, which is worrisome." Genesis glanced at Sephiroth uncertainly. "But it shouldn't surprise you, Tifa, that Hojo has taken on his original physical form. Sephiroth was able to do the exact same thing."

Tifa massaged her temples. She could feel the beginnings of a tension headache coming on. "Is it impossible to kill him, then?" she asked, aware of the desperation that had crept into her voice.

"I don't know, but..."

"Perhaps I can explain." Sephiroth interrupted Genesis, his voice oddly strained. "As I have considerably more experience concerning Jenova than you do."

A creeping dread worked its way up Tifa's spine and mingled with a surge of excited anticipation. She realized that she'd shifted positions in the armchair, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she leaned towards Sephiroth, giving him her full attention.

"Jenova's cells are not sentient in themselves. They act purely on biological impulse- like a plant sucking moisture out of the soil. However, the larger a cluster of cells, the stronger they become. When the cells in a human body become strong enough, the biological response- the Reunion- becomes stronger than the host's own willpower. You saw it with Cloud," Sephiroth said to Tifa, "and the Remnants. The host begins to act out Jenova's will."

"But it gets much more complicated than that," he continued, his eyes distant and brooding. "Because when the willpower of a person who has a very large amount of Jenova cells in their body is stronger than that biological pull, that person gains control over the cells. They begin to take on Jenova's traits. The ability to mutate, to control the cells in other hosts."

"So Hojo had enough willpower and enough Jenova cells in his body to take over Weiss. But...if Hojo's body was destroyed..." Tifa struggled to wrap her head around it. Her skull was throbbing painfully, and the ache worked its way into her neck.

"The physical body becomes irrelevant when your subconscious is fused with Jenova's."

"It can get into your _subconscious_?"

"Of course. But you already know that, Tifa. That's why Cloud came to the Northern Crater three years ago, bringing the Black Materia with him."

"Apparently I overslept," Genesis commented. Tifa and Sephiroth both looked at him. He shrugged casually. "I missed the near-destruction of the planet."

"I have a headache." Tifa massaged her scalp gently, tousling her hair. She didn't want to hear half of what Sephiroth was saying. It meant he knew what he was doing when he'd done it. Of course she already knew that, but hearing him talk about it made it more real to her.

"I still believed I was after Weiss, until I found Hojo in Icicle. I managed to get some information from him, about you," he nodded at Sephiroth. "He told me you'd escaped. In fact, he asked me to go after you. It seems he's under the impression that you ought to be helping him with his latest endeavour, not slicing off his hand."

"The punishment for thievery," Sephiroth answered casually.

"So you did cut his hand off." Tifa shook her head.

"You were following me," Sephiroth said to Genesis. "The entire time?"

"Yes. And I must say, shame on you for how you treated the poor thing." Genesis gave Tifa another charming smile.

"We've moved past all of that," Sephiroth said dismissively.

"Have we?" Tifa raised her eyebrows.

He glanced at her rather uncertainly. "I thought... I was under the impression..."

As much fun as it was to watch him stumble over his words, Tifa decided to put him out of his misery. "Relax. I'm just teasing you. So," she turned her attention back to Genesis, "what are you going to do about Hojo?"

"Ah." Sephiroth coughed, and Tifa saw him shoot Genesis a meaningful look. They nodded to each other, silently communicating something.

"Well?" She waited for an answer, but Genesis looked suddenly noncommittal. It made her suspicious- he'd been so forthcoming up until now.

"Genesis. A word with you in private," Sephiroth stated, leaping to his feet gracefully. Genesis nodded and heaved himself up off of the sofa. He extended his hand to Tifa; she grabbed it, thinking he wanted to shake hands, but he raised her hand to his mouth and gave her calloused knuckles a chivalrous kiss.

"I see you prefer hand-to-hand combat. Do you know what that implies, Tifa?"

She tapped her foot, irritated. They were leaving, going off to discuss what they would do about Hojo. She had no doubt they were probably the best candidates to handle the situation- they would probably have it taken care of before Cloud even knew what exactly was going on- but Tifa didn't appreciate the fact that they were leaving her out of the loop. "What?"

"It implies that you are honest, loyal, rarely impulsive, and dedicated."

"Genesis." Sephiroth slapped him on the back. It was the closest thing to a show of companionship that Tifa had seen from him. "Stop flirting."

She snorted, and to her amusement the redhead's cheeks turned pink. He whispered something in Sephiroth's ear. Sephiroth laughed.

"If you two are going after Hojo..." she began, but Sephiroth cut her off.

"You aren't missing out, Tifa. We're merely going to discuss more personal business."

"We're just going to catch up," Genesis supplied, sensing her confusion. Tifa stood and placed her hands on her hips, frowning at both of them suspiciously.

"Don't leave your apartment," Sephiroth added. He stood in front of her and lifted her chin, looking into her eyes. The sudden closeness, the intimacy between them, startled her, though it wasn't unwelcome. "I'm concerned for your safety. Hojo has people working for him, people you wouldn't suspect. I know you can take care of yourself," he said quickly, a smile gracing his lips, "but I don't want you taking silly risks. Don't answer the phone if you don't know the caller."

Was he that worried about her? Should _she_ be worried? Hojo had managed to abduct her before, she supposed it wasn't a stretch for him to do it again. She shivered involuntarily.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Sephiroth murmured. Tifa found herself in a bone-crunching embrace as he hugged her, his arms holding her to his chest firmly.

"Mmph," she mumbled into his shirt. He smelled like laundry soap and, incredibly, like smoke.

"I assure you Tifa, you're very safe," he murmured in her ear.

"Can't breathe," she gasped. He let her go and stepped back. Behind them, Genesis shook his head. He gave Sephiroth an odd, calculating look, then chuckled quietly as though sharing a joke with himself. "Thanks," Tifa added weakly, and touched his shoulder.

He nodded and left with Genesis, exiting out the back door of her bar. Tifa meandered into her kitchen to surveyed the damage. The sight made her suck in a breath of sullen resentment.

Her kitchen was _destroyed._

And her phone was ringing. She didn't recognize the number, and immediately Sephiroth's warning echoed in her mind.

She answered it anyway. She never could ignore a phone call, a by-product of all those hours she'd wasted waiting around for Cloud to call her, she supposed "Hello?"

"Oh, you're safe."

Tifa recognized the caller immediately. As if she could ever forget that voice. "You! Why are _you_ calling me?"

Reno's cavalier voice sounded amused. "Just thought I'd check in on you. Make sure you're safe. We heard you ran into a spot of trouble, and the President was concerned."

Tifa snorted. Rufus Shinra, concerned? "What do you really want?"

"All right, you got me. Actually, we're on our way over to Seventh Heaven. The President wants to... debrief you."

"Debrief me?"

"Relax, it's nothing serious. He just wants a rundown of what happened. Come unlock the door, would you?" Reno hung up.

Tifa gritted her teeth. Dealing with Shinra, though she knew the company truly did have the planet's best interests in mind, still set her on edge. She slipped down the stairs and unlocked the door; Reno, Rude, and Rufus Shinra were standing on her doorstep. Rude inclined his head in greeting. Reno barged right past her with a casual "Hey, honey," and Rufus Shinra extended his hand.

Tifa shook his hand. "Hi. Come in, I guess." She stepped aside to allow them into her bar. Rufus strolled casually in- she noticed he still had a slight limp in his walk, but otherwise appeared fully healed. The scars from his Geostigma were gone, though his throat still bore the marks of hundreds of glass shards lodging themselves in his skin. She still marvelled over the fact that he'd survived WEAPON's assault on the old Shinra Headquarters.

"Good to see you, Tifa. How are you?" he asked, looking around casually and taking in her humble establishment.

"Fine." She closed the door and locked it.

"I'll have a scotch." Reno sat on one of the barstools and twirled around.

"I'm not open yet."

"Reno," Rufus said quietly. He pulled out a chair at one of the large round tables and sat down, gesturing for Tifa to join him. She sat across from the President- Reno and Rude sat on each side of her. Tifa felt nervous, sandwiched between the two Turks. Their hostility towards her had always been more amiable than antagonistic, but she still felt a bit intimidated by them. She knew she could take either of them on their own, but wasn't arrogant enough to think she could take them both at the same time.

"We heard from Reeve," Reno said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He withdrew one and lit it up. Tifa wrinkled her nose as the acrid smoke drifted past her.

"We would like to know what happened, Tifa. If you could start at the beginning, please." Rufus folded his hands on the table and waited patiently.

"Why do you want to know?" She crossed her arms and stared back at him defiantly.

Rufus laughed and brushed his hair back from his face, a gesture she'd seen countless times before. "I think you can understand why I would take an interest in this...situation, Tifa. If there is a threat to the recovery of our world, I want to know about it." He held her gaze stubbornly.

Tifa looked away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "I don't trust you."

"I'm not asking you to trust me."

She sighed, raking her hair back with her hand. Beside her, Rude shifted in his chair.

"C'mon Tifa. We're just looking out for you." Reno tapped his cigarette and took a long drag. He exhaled a plume of smoke into the still, dusty air.

"Yeah, right." She waved her hand in the air, fanning the smoke out of her face. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Rufus said promptly.

Tifa cleared her throat. "There's not much to tell. I was closing up here, somebody knocked me out, I woke up on an operating table in Icicle."

"You got out of there without a scratch," Rufus commented. "That's impressive. How did you manage it?"

Tifa sucked in a breath of stale air. "I was rescued. Professor Hojo had another specimen in that lab." She paused for dramatic effect- Rufus unconsciously leaned forward. "Sephiroth."

"Professor Hojo is dead," Reno said lazily.

"Sephiroth is dead," Rufus added, leaning back in his chair. He settled his hands in his lap and regarded her, his cool blue eyes giving nothing away. He would make one hell of a poker player, Tifa thought, and grinned.

"It's not such a surprise, is it?" she countered.

"No," Rufus conceded. "Continue, please. You were rescued."

"Sephiroth brought me to Bone Village. I called Cloud, and he picked me up in the Forgotten City and brought me home."

Reno coughed and spat into the ashtray. "That's it? Sephiroth just let you go?"

"Yeah. That's it."

"You understand, of course, that we find that hard to believe." Rufus leaned forward, snagging Tifa's eyes with his. "What do you think his motivation was for simply letting you go?"

Tifa shrugged uneasily. She wasn't willing to disclose _too_ much to Shinra. "How should I know what was going through his head? He didn't want Hojo experimenting with Jenova cells."

"You didn't mention that. What did Professor Hojo plan on doing to you?"

"He wanted to..." She trailed off, her throat constricting. It still frightened her. Hojo's hands on her body, the gleam in his eyes. She shuddered. "He was going to..."

Rufus waited patiently; when she didn't continue, he reached forward and took her hand in his. "I understand it must have been... distressing, for you. But please, the more we know, the more we can do about it."

Tifa exhaled slowly to calm herself. "Hojo wanted to create another Sephiroth. A better version. That's what he was going to use me for."

Rufus nodded and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

Tifa shrugged. She nearly jumped out of her seat when Rude put his hand on her shoulder, but she didn't brush it off. Reno rubbed her back gently, and Tifa's eyes were suddenly and unexplainably wet.

"You're safe now," Rufus added, letting go of her hand. Tifa wiped an escaped tear from her cheek and sniffed. She put her emotional response to their concern down to the stress of keeping everything bottled up inside her, not talking it over with anyone. She had a sudden urge to divulge everything, but resisted. That would be stupid, and foolish. Not to mention they wouldn't believe her.

But it was a real, tangible relief, the comfort of Rude's hand on her shoulder and Reno's gently rubbing her back.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Did Sephiroth hint at anything? How he's back, what he might do?" Rufus asked.

She wondered if they thought her distress was due to Sephiroth, not Hojo. If only they knew. "Not really."

"And did Hojo divulge anything about himself?"

"No, but he's still out there. Sephiroth didn't kill him. But he cut off his hand." She couldn't stop the smile that pulled at her mouth.

"I assume Cloud is already after Sephiroth."

"Yeah."

"You don't seem happy about it. Are you concerned for Cloud's safety?"

Tifa laughed, startling all three of them. "No," she said, cutting off her laughter quickly, "not really. I don't think Sephiroth is all that interested in fighting."

"I see. Is there anything else we should know?" Rufus leaned forward once more. He was very persuasive, Tifa realized, when he wanted to be.

"That's all I can tell you," she said with a shrug.

Rufus studied her thoughtfully, his eyes going vacant as he contemplated. She shifted her weight around, squirming under his unwavering stare. "Thank you, Tifa," he said finally. "We will look into this. Shinra has many places across the planet that Hojo might potentially use. We will find him."

Tifa was sure Sephiroth and Genesis would find Hojo long before Shinra did, but she nodded. The President and his Turks stood, and she saw them to the door. Rufus gave Reno and Rude a peculiar look and a nod, and they went to the black car parked right outside, as though he'd given them some silent command. The President turned his attention back to her once more.

"Tifa." He spoke quietly this time, his tone of voice much different than before. It immediately put her on edge.

"Yes?"

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. Be it a sympathetic ear or..." Rufus glanced over his shoulder at the two Turks, leaning casually against the car and whispering to each other. "Or protection, I'm happy to help."

Tifa was surprised to see genuine concern written on his face. She dismissed it, though- he was a good actor, that was all. "I'm fine, President."

He shrugged, his expression unreadable once more. "Of course you are. We'll be in touch, should anything come up. Take care, Tifa."

As she watched them drive away, she realized what a beautiful day it was. The city of Edge soaked up the early summer sunshine, trapping warmth in the pavement and the concrete, raising the temperature to almost unbearable levels. Tifa felt a strong urge to go for a walk, to soak up the delicious warmth and let the perfect weather wipe her mind clean of the worries that plagued her. Sephiroth's warning came back to her.

_"Don't leave your apartment."_

Well, she could take care of herself. Surely Hojo or his associates weren't lurking around every corner.

Her mind made up, Tifa grabbed her keys from upstairs and went out into the sun.


	8. Or Maybe Not

**A/N: Okay, this was supposed to go up three days ago. But I was employed for the past seven days, and it rather interfered with my writing. I officially hate quotas. And my life. **

**My deepest thanks to all of my readers, and for the wonderful feedback. Bear with me. I am slogging along at a snail's pace with this story, but I like to think it's worth spending the extra time editing and re-editing the chapters. I hope you think so too. And I hope you get some chuckles out of Sephiroth's lack of cell phone etiquette. Can't you just picture him googling Tifa? Texting her stuff like "Came to visit last night. Where were u?"**

**Lol IDK.**

**Peace**

* * *

**Chapter #8**

**Or Maybe Not**

"She doesn't listen very well, does she?"

Sephiroth took a moment to glower at his companion before turning his attention back to the empty apartment. "Where would she go? Look," he plucked her cell phone off of the table, "she didn't take her phone."

"Perhaps she went shopping," Genesis suggested.

What truly upset Sephiroth was the fact that he had no clue where she might have gone off to. He obviously didn't know her very well at all. He sighed and flipped her phone open, searching for the last received call. Unknown Caller.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

"You think so?" He searched his friend's face for reassurance, but Genesis looked doubtful.

"You would think she would have cleaned up," he answered, kicking a piece of a broken bowl across the kitchen floor.

Sephiroth felt the beginnings of a deep panic claw at his chest. It was a terribly unfamiliar feeling. When had he last felt true panic? "We must find her."

"Why?" Genesis shot him a sly glance.

"She might be in danger."

"I pity you, my friend."

"Whatever for?" Sephiroth asked irritably.

"You don't see it, do you?" Genesis grabbed the table and righted it.

"See what?"

"Never mind. Do you suppose she went out simply because you told her not to?"

Sephiroth considered the possibility. Genesis made a good point, he had to admit. Tifa had been cooperative with him when she thought he would kill her, but the moment that possibility flew out the window, the moment she became truly comfortable with him (he hadn't yet pinpointed that moment, though he continually tried), she began to defy him, in small ways. Pushing his buttons, testing his patience.

He smiled, despite the grimness of the situation and the panic in his chest. "That's very likely."

"Sephiroth," Genesis placed a hand on his shoulder, "you can't protect her and track down Hojo at the same time."

"I'm aware of the basic laws of physics, thank you," he grumbled, brushing his friend's hand away and checking the outgoing calls on Tifa's phone. Vincent V. Why would she contact this man? He felt a strange twinge somewhere in his stomach, a quite different pain than that fiery ache of sickness that occasionally overcame him. "I worry about her, Genesis."

"I know." Genesis smiled. "I have to say, I never thought you of all people would lose your head over a woman."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him, and it took the poor ex-SOLDIER a moment to realize his faux pas.

"Over a human woman," he added.

"Don't be stupid. I haven't lost my head." He paced the length of the kitchen, pondering. Vincent, Vincent. He'd heard that name before. Where?

_"One of your friends...he wears a cape. A red cape. He's a gunman."_

_"He was a Turk, a long time ago..."_

"Let me rephrase that. I never thought you of all people would get _attached _to a woman. Though I must say, you picked an extraordinary woman to get attached to."

"I've heard enough of your mindless drivel. If I hear one more LOVELESS quote from you, I might actually lose my head." Sephiroth flipped the phone shut. "This man Vincent, he was involved with the Jenova Project. Tifa told me he was a Turk."

"A Turk involved in the Jenova Project? He must have been security, or some such thing," Genesis answered, absentmindedly fetching a broom from the closet and sweeping up the shards of glass and chunks of ceramic that littered the kitchen floor.

"Are you cleaning?"

"The least I can do." Genesis shot him a smirk. "I forgot you were a chauvinist."

Sephiroth let out a quiet sigh of annoyance. "Do you think she might have gone to visit this man?"

"What man?" Genesis found a dustpan and swept the debris into it.

"This ex-Turk. Vincent."

"How should I know where your lady love went off to?" He dumped the fragments of Tifa's dishes into a garbage bin, then turned his attention to the broken shelf.

Sephiroth bristled, though not at the way Genesis had described Tifa. No, it was the man's cavalier attitude that annoyed him. "You're not concerned at all?"

Genesis ripped the busted shelf right off of the wall. "The front door is locked. This would indicate a voluntary exit, no?"

Sephiroth decided that his mind was definitely going soft. He ought to have noticed such details. "Yes."

"I'm not concerned. She probably went for a stroll. It's a lovely day." Genesis surveyed the kitchen. "I suppose that will do." He opened the fridge and helped himself to a take-out carton filled with fried rice and noodles.

"That is not yours." How dare the man help himself to Tifa's food?

"It's damn good."

"What point is there in owning a mobile phone if you don't take it with you?" Sephiroth sat in one of the kitchen chairs and put his head in his hands, closing out the world for the time being, taking a moment to work through his aggravation.

Genesis helped himself to a glass of milk. "Maybe she forgot it."

Sephiroth flipped the phone open again and studied the number listed under Unknown Caller. "Do you know this phone number?" He showed it to Genesis.

"Why would I recognize it? Don't," he warned, but Sephiroth hit the Call button and held the phone to his ear.

It rang twice.

"Hey honey, miss me already?" The voice on the other end was casual, almost crude. Sephiroth froze. A bolt like an electrical current coursed through his body.

_Honey?_

"Hello? Tifa? Hey, I was just kidding. Relax."

Sephiroth locked eyes with Genesis, who stared back, loaded fork halfway to his mouth.

"Yo, what is this? A pocket dial?"

The line went dead.

"I know that voice." Genesis swallowed a mouthful of food. "From somewhere."

"I wonder who he is?" Sephiroth murmured to himself. He recognized the feeling racing through his body, though he had scant experience with it.

Jealousy.

The easy camaraderie in that man's voice, the term of endearment he'd used. Sephiroth did not like it. Not at all.

"So, what shall we do?"

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused on Genesis. "About?"

"Good grief, are you that distracted? Hojo. What shall we do about Hojo?"

Sephiroth frowned. "I don't know. It won't matter if we kill him, will it?"

"He might find another body to...infect."

"He must be dispersed into the lifestream, but how?" It made him feel better to focus on a tangible problem. He pushed his puzzling emotions regarding Tifa Lockhart aside for the moment- he would address them later, when he was alone and uninterrupted.

Genesis gazed at Sephiroth over his glass of milk. His glowing blue eyes, the mark of a SOLDIER, were grave. "We must destroy all traces of Jenova."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

Genesis smiled, an empty, humourless smile. "Reunion."

Sephiroth's blood ran cold. "You are asking me to..."

"Use your powers for the greater good, yes. I know, it's a novel concept for you." Genesis downed the rest of his milk and rinsed the glass out. "Hojo will come if you call him. As will the others."

An answer to Genesis was already working its way up Sephiroth's spine, the cold, creeping sensation of alien instincts kicking in. He shuddered, and pushed the feeling aside. "I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Pick one." He cradled Tifa's cell phone in his hand.

"Alternatively we can sit around and hope dear Professor Hojo will fail to create another monster. Maybe, if we're lucky, his body will start to degrade." Genesis gave him a severe look.

The cell phone rang. Sephiroth stared down at it dumbly. The name flashing across the screen- Vincent V.

"Don't you dare," Genesis warned.

"I wasn't going to." Sephiroth set the phone on the table, where it lay innocently, the screen flashing blue with each ring. "Give me some credit, Genesis. I'm not a complete meathead."

"Debatable."

The atmosphere became suddenly much lighter, and he was relieved. But that word, reunion, swirled around in his brain like a curse. The seeds of an idea were being planted, the first whispering of an alien consciousness since he'd woken up in Hojo's lab stirred inside him, and he couldn't deny the fierce excitement that blossomed in his chest.

Still a monster, then. As though he'd ever doubted it.

The door burst open, and a flourish of red fabric filled the kitchen doorway. Sephiroth raised his eyes and gazed in amazement into the scarlet stare of a man with a gun aimed at the center of his forehead.

Genesis leapt to his feet, his lone raven wing flaring out. The man's gaze flickered from Genesis, to the phone on the table, to Sephiroth. Despite the stoic look of calm on his face, Sephiroth felt a subtle wave of fear roll off of him.

"You can't fight both of us," Genesis warned him evenly.

The gun wavered slightly. "I can fire two rounds faster than you think," the man answered softly. Sephiroth didn't doubt it for a moment.

"Vincent," he concluded. "You must be here to check up on Tifa."

"She always answers her phone."

"Even if a stranger is calling?"

Vincent gave him an odd, calculating look. "Yes."

Slowly, to show the man he meant no harm, Sephiroth picked up Tifa's phone and brought up the number of the mystery caller. "Do you know this number?"

Vincent's composed expression gave nothing away. Sephiroth was impressed. "Yes."

"Who is it?"

"Where is she?" Vincent countered quietly.

"We don't know." Genesis smiled disarmingly at this strange man with red eyes and a prosthetic claw where his one arm should have been. "The young lady's disappeared."

Vincent studied Sephiroth, and his face suddenly became quite readable. Sephiroth knew that expression, though certainly nobody had ever gazed at him that way before. It was a look of pure, unequivocal love, and it stirred something inside him, something very deep and old, something rudimentary and biological.

It lasted for the briefest moment, and the ex-Turk's mask of cold indifference came down again. "Genesis Rhapsodos, of Project G?" he asked, his eyes finally leaving Sephiroth's face and taking in Genesis.

"Yes, that would be me."

Sephiroth sneered as Genesis puffed his chest out and drew up his shoulders proudly. To his surprise, Vincent suddenly switched targets, aiming his gun at Genesis instead. The switch seemed to physically hurt him- his face contorted briefly, he closed his eyes, then opened them and regarded Genesis coldly.

"We mean no harm," Sephiroth said quietly.

"I wish to speak to Tifa."

"She's clearly not home." Genesis looked deflated, as though he felt personally insulted that Vincent would shoot him before Sephiroth.

"That number is Reno's. Reno the Turk," Vincent said to Sephiroth, keeping his eyes fixed on Genesis. "I imagine Shinra is chomping at the bit to get involved."

"Would they hurt her?" Sephiroth couldn't stop himself from asking.

"No, I don't believe so." Vincent finally glanced at him, though there was an odd flicker in his unearthly eyes.

The swelling panic in Sephiroth's chest suddenly popped, and bled out of him. His shoulders slumped as he finally allowed himself to relax.

"I knew I recognized that voice," Genesis said to him triumphantly. "You remember him, don't you? The redhead. Sort of a weasel."

"The pot calling the kettle black, Genesis."

Vincent snorted quietly, and Sephiroth suspected the man was resisting the urge to smile. "Why are you here?"

"For the same reason you are." Sephiroth folded his hands in his lap, to show he meant no harm. "I'm simply checking in on Tifa."

"And it shouldn't strike me as odd that you are _simply checking in_ on her?"

"As happiness grows, so does guilt, of not..."

"Shut your hole," Sephiroth interrupted, shooting Genesis a warning look.

"I say." He raised himself up and glared, insulted.

"I am sure," Sephiroth addressed Vincent, "that it strikes you as not only odd, but unbelievable at best. But believe me, it's the truth. I've had countless opportunities to hurt Tifa. If I planned on doing so, I would have done it days ago."

Vincent huffed, and slowly lowered his gun. "LOVELESS, Act II," he said to Genesis, who clapped his hands in delight.

"You know it?"

"Quite well. What am I to do?" This last question he directed to himself, and his eyes grew distant as he became lost in thought. Sephiroth waited patiently. He felt sure the ex-Turk wouldn't hurt him, though he didn't know where that certainty came from. But he felt a faint glimmer of trust, pulling him towards this man. It was a strange sensation.

"We can wait for the elusive Miss Lockhart to return, if you wish." Genesis eyed the man with renewed interest and grudging respect.

Vincent shrugged. "I will find her. Fortunately for you," he said to Sephiroth, "Cloud is knee-deep in Shinra classified information. He will be in Cosmo Canyon for several more days, at least."

"How fortunate for me." It came out slightly more bitter than Sephiroth intended. He had mixed feelings regarding the troubled young man. He was surprised to see a smile, brief but sincere, flicker across Vincent's face.

"We wish to remain... invisible," Genesis said flatly, eyeing Vincent with suspicion.

"I will not run off to Shinra or the WRO," Vincent answered sharply, and Genesis had the good sense to look guilty for the unspoken accusation. "I've no interest in sending the general public into a panic, so no, I will not tell anyone. Not even Cloud," he addressed Sephiroth. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to find the elusive Miss Lockhart."

He departed with the same dramatic flourish he'd arrived in, his cape flowing behind him silently.

"He seems familiar," Genesis said quietly. "I can't put my finger on it..." His gaze drifted over Sephiroth thoughtfully. Despite himself, Sephiroth felt a slight tremor race through his shoulders.

* * *

Tifa was certain she was losing her mind. She hadn't the slightest idea why she was in this mouldy antique shop. Actually, she had no idea how this place stayed in business. Old Shinra posters clung to the walls, the edges yellow and curling with age. A kerosene lantern sat on the cashier's desk, throwing off a meagre but pretty glow. Who in Edge would have the money and inclination to buy an ancient, rusty old coat rack? Or a faded old poster that declared the wonderful discovery of mako energy? Her eyes drifted over one of the Shinra posters.

_**MAKO ENERGY**_

_**A MIRACLE GIVEN TO US BY THE PLANET**_

_**THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT**_

Tifa shook her head, speechless.

"Twisted, ain't it?" the shopkeeper commented. "Weirdly enough, lots of folks are interested in that stuff. Old Shinra stuff. Goes to show what sort of sense of humour people have around here, eh?"

"Yeah," Tifa murmured.

"Looking for anything in particular?" His eyes were bright and eager. Tifa imagined he got pretty lonely sitting around here. She was the only customer in the shop.

"Not really." She picked up a gleaming silver comb. "How much is this?"

"Four hundred," the shopkeeper said promptly.

Tifa sighed and set it down. She ought to be outside in the sunshine, not in this dark, dirty shop. She looked up at another random poster, and stifled the gasp that came out of her mouth. Familiar, piercing green eyes stared back at her haughtily. Sephiroth. He appeared slightly younger, but no less imposing. She recognized the look on his face, could even name the emotion he must have been feeling when the photographer snapped the picture.

To the casual observer he simply looked cool and aloof. Tifa knew better. He was irritated and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, nobody's that twisted. I've had that thing forever." The shopkeeper stood behind her, which was a good thing, because Tifa couldn't fight the grin on her face. "I remember when everyone wanted a poster of him. Now I can't even get rid of one."

"Nobody's ever tried to buy it?" She read the text at the bottom of the poster.

**GENERAL SEPHIROTH CRESCENT – SOLDIER, 1****st**** CLASS**

"Nope. I've had customers tell me I'm going to hell just for having it."

"I'll take it." She couldn't help but think that Sephiroth wouldn't appreciate having his face plastered on the wall of some antique shop. Maybe she would give it to him, as a gag gift.

The shopkeeper stared at her as though she'd sprouted another head. "Really? Well... alright." He fetched a stepladder and carefully took the poster down, rolling it up neatly and securing it with a rubber band. "Fifty gil, please."

Tifa paid for the poster and left, aware of the shopkeeper's eyes following her out the door and past the display window. He probably thought she was a weirdo of the highest order. She smiled and tucked the poster under her arm, then headed in the general direction of the city park. She had a sudden craving to be amidst nature.

She stepped off of the paved sidewalk and onto the dirt trail that wound its way through the park, and strolled leisurely along, smiling at three passing children walking a mangy-looking dog that was missing half an ear. She veered off the trail and onto the grass, where she plopped herself down and stretched on her back to soak up the early afternoon rays. She kept her poster close by, one hand resting on it possessively.

Tifa closed her eyes, but opened them when she felt a shadow fall across her face.

"Aghh!" she cried, leaping to her feet.

"My apologies."

"Vincent! You scared me!" Tifa rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. She was generally not a jumpy sort of person. Of course, Vincent Valentine made a lot of people jumpy.

He raised an eyebrow. There was something familiar about that action, though Tifa couldn't pinpoint it. "I called your phone," he said, as though that statement explained everything.

"Oh! I forgot it at home..." she trailed off.

"I was concerned when you didn't answer it." Vincent's eyes flicked to the rolled-up poster on the ground. "I went to your apartment. When I realized you were not there, I decided to find you." He crossed his arms. "And here you are. Unharmed?"

Tifa blinked. So many men had asked her that question today... Genesis, Sephiroth, Rufus Shinra. She scanned Vincent's face, but he was as unreadable as ever. How much he knew about the situation, she could only guess. "Yeah, of course."

"Of course. May I walk you home?" The look he gave her suggested she didn't have a choice. Tifa bent over and picked up her poster.

"Yeah, sure. So, is Cloud back?" She tried to sound casual, but the question came out strained and uneasy.

"No. I came to Edge to ensure you were safe. Cloud stayed in Cosmo Canyon to continue our research."

"Oh." Tifa relaxed. She hadn't talked to Cloud since their fight outside her bar, and had no desire to. She wasn't sure she would be able to look him in the eye. It hurt to think about what his reaction would be, if he found out she'd forgiven Sephiroth his past transgressions.

But she hadn't forgotten. She would never forget.

They strolled down the sidewalk towards Seventh Heaven. Tifa was quite used to the concept of comfortable silence now, and found no need to make idle conversation with Vincent. He preferred quiet anyway. Not really the chatty type. She grinned to herself.

"You seem different," Vincent commented.

"How?" She vividly remembered standing in front of her mirror this morning, searching her face for something she knew was there.

Vincent shrugged. Tifa wondered if he was sweltering under that cape. He certainly seemed out of place, all black and red, his snowy skin starkly contrasted by his raven hair and crimson eyes. She had a sudden mental image of him in a pair of flowery swimming trunks, and had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter that threatened to come out.

"Have you found out anything about Hojo?" she asked, to direct the conversation away from herself.

"No, but I've learned much about the Jenova Project."

They stopped outside her bar, and Tifa unlocked the door, holding it open for him. He gave a curt nod and stepped inside. She followed him, locking the door behind her, and they trooped silently up the stairs and into her apartment.

Tifa received an enormous shock at the sight of the two ex-SOLDIERs sitting in her den, chatting idly away. Genesis waved, and Sephiroth gave her a small smile that caused a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She spun around to face Vincent, blocking the door to her den. There were two options. She could act as though she had no idea what they were doing here, or she could tell the truth. Tifa wasn't quite willing to disown her fragile friendship with Sephiroth. She would have to tell the truth. "Vincent..."

He folded his arms and regarded her, apparently waiting for an explanation.

"Okay," she stuttered, "I know this looks...bad. But I can explain. I mean...Sephiroth is...well, it's complicated, but..." She trailed off helplessly.

Vincent shook his head slowly. "So he was telling the truth," he mused, his eyes flickering over to Sephiroth.

"Huh?" Tifa was confused.

"I neglected to mention that I found these two in your kitchen when I came here." Vincent looked amused. It suddenly occurred to Tifa that perhaps she had died in that lab in Icicle, and all of this was a very strange dream. Or the afterlife, perhaps.

"Oh," she said finally.

"I cleaned your kitchen," Genesis volunteered. He looked even more amused than Vincent; his shoulders trembled as he struggled not to laugh.

"Tifa." Sephiroth got to his feet and approached her. She looked up at him wordlessly. "Why did you leave your apartment? You could have been killed. Or worse." His voice was cold with fury. Tifa almost felt afraid. But not quite.

"It's such a beautiful day," she argued. "You can't expect me to stay locked up in my apartment with this kind of weather."

He raked a hand through his glorious silver hair and sighed. "You could have left a note."

Tifa tried to decipher the source of his anger, and then it hit her. He was relieved to see her safe, and irritated that she had made him worry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." She automatically touched his shoulder. "I'm fine, Sephiroth."

"Yes, I can see that." Sephiroth's eyes flickered over to Vincent, then back to her. "You have good friends."

Tifa flashed Vincent a nervous smile. "I do."

"What did you purchase?" Genesis asked, nodding at the poster tucked under her arm.

Tifa flushed red. "Just a stupid old poster," she mumbled.

Sephiroth tilted his head. "May I?" He extended his hand to take the poster from her. She handed it to him, and he unrolled it slowly. His eyes moved from the poster to Tifa. "You..." He cut himself short, and shook his head.

"I found it in an antique shop."

Now it was Sephiroth who blushed. Tifa watched, amazed and fascinated, as his pale cheeks turned a vibrant shade of pink. "Just a stupid old poster," he echoed, rolling it up before Genesis could get a look at it. "Never mind that. Tifa, why don't you give us a formal introduction?" He nodded at Vincent.

"Oh," she squeaked, grateful for his changing the subject so quickly, though she could tell by the way he looked at her that it would be brought up at some later date, perhaps to ridicule her. "Sephiroth, this is my friend Vincent. Vincent, this is...my friend Sephiroth."

Genesis snorted, earning himself a glare from Sephiroth. To Tifa's surprise, Vincent extended his normal hand. Sephiroth shook it firmly.

"I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I understand if you feel otherwise," Sephiroth said.

"You saved Tifa's life." Vincent inclined his head. "It is a pleasure."

The ball of tension and nerves in Tifa's chest promptly vanished, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Three men looked at her; two of them raised an eyebrow. She glanced between Sephiroth and Vincent, and saw for the first time how eerily similar they were. The fine, straight nose, high cheekbones, perfectly shaped eyebrows.

Strange, how she'd never noticed before. Having them side by side made it so obvious.

"Vincent may be able to help you," she said to Sephiroth. "He's well-acquainted with Hojo."

Sephiroth tilted his head at Vincent, who gave a sigh of resignation. He sat in the chair next to Genesis. Tifa took Sephiroth's large hand in hers and led him to the sofa.

"Before I begin," Vincent said softly, and Tifa saw Sephiroth lean forward eagerly, "I must apologize to you, Sephiroth."

"Why? I've never met you."

"No, but it was my cowardice that led to your being what you are." Vincent's voice had taken on that familiar tone of wretched, heavy guilt that it always did when he spoke about his past. Sephiroth looked as though he wanted to say something, but he seemed to sense that Vincent preferred to tell this tale uninterrupted. Tifa was pleasantly surprised by his show of tact.

"I was twenty-six years old, and working for the Department of Administrative Research. The Turks. A second branch of the Jenova Project, later to be called Project S, was starting up in Nibelheim, at the Shinra Mansion. Project G, the original Jenova Project, was already underway, led by Dr. Hollander, but Hojo was unimpressed with the results. He believed he would have more success using less... ethical methods. And so I was given the assignment of protecting the scientists and their precious research in Nibelheim."

Tifa made herself comfortable. She had a feeling this would be a very long story, some of it told for her benefit, some of it for Sephiroth's, and some of it for Genesis. Maybe, when all the pieces came together, when they could hold their collective knowledge up to the light, the picture would be clear.

Or maybe not.


	9. Play by Ear

**A/N: Dear me, I am sorry. I reiterate. I hate quotas. Absolutely hate them.**

**Thank you all for your patience, for your feedback, and for reading! I do hope you enjoy this chapter. There is some Turkish Delight (cough cough) in here that I hope you like.**

* * *

**Chapter #9**

**Play by Ear**

She must have fallen asleep. When she woke, Tifa found herself leaning against something large, warm, and quite solid. She lifted her head slightly and wriggled her feet out from under the blanket draped over her. Wherever the blanket had come from... she had no idea. She tilted her head slightly to look at what she'd used as a pillow.

Brilliant green eyes gazed down at her serenely. "You were tired."

"What time is it?" She felt oddly disoriented. Vincent, Sephiroth, and Genesis had talked well past midnight, and she'd tried her best to keep up. She remembered nodding off while Sephiroth explained the immense concentration and motivation it had taken to initiate his Reunion and spread the Geostigma infection.

"It is 7:30." Sephiroth brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and touched her cheek. Tifa found herself wishing his hand had lingered a bit longer than it did.

"Oh. Sorry," she hauled herself into a sitting position, "I keep using you as a pillow."

"Nonsense, Tifa. I'm honoured to be of use to you." He smiled, a different smile- warm, charming, infectious.

She smiled back at him, startled by the affection in his eyes. "Oh."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah." Tifa folded up her blanket and set it on the back of the sofa. "Where did they go?"

"Genesis, I believe, is sleeping in Cloud's bed. Vincent went out."

She noticed that he had an open file in his lap, and on top of the stack of paper was a photograph of a beautiful young woman sitting at a grand piano. She wore a tailored white lab coat that somehow ill-fitted her appearance. Tifa looked up at Sephiroth, questioning.

"My mother," he said softly, picking up the photo and studying it. He handed it to Tifa, who took it from him gently. She flipped it over. Tiny cursive writing in the bottom right corner identified the woman as Lucrecia Crescent.

"Oh," Tifa said quietly. "Vincent must have given this to you."

"Yes. He wanted me to know her." Sephiroth's expression was oddly wistful. "He told me she played well."

Tifa suddenly craved the feel of ivory under her fingers- she didn't quite know why. She hadn't played in so long, but looking at the vibrant young woman seated at the piano, eyes brimming with joy, stirred in her the desire to lose herself in a melody, any melody.

"She's beautiful."

Sephiroth smiled. "Yes. I think so too." He looked at Tifa, considering. "May I ask why you bought the poster?"

Tifa blushed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "I don't know. I thought you wouldn't like your face hanging on the wall next to a declaration of how wonderful Shinra technology is."

"Hmm."

He didn't believe her. Tifa stretched her arms over her head and added, "It was an impulse purchase."

"Hmm."

She glanced at him. He looked so... normal, sitting on her couch, as though he belonged here, was a part of this world that he'd tried so hard to destroy. Human, she decided. That was it. He looked so human, but she knew he wasn't, not entirely, and the whole thing was too much to think about this early in the morning.

"I'll make some coffee," she said, handing him the photo and going into the kitchen. She put the coffee on and headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. In the bedroom across the hall she could hear heavy snoring. Curious, Tifa cracked the bedroom door open and peeked in.

Genesis, naked except for a pair of boxers that she knew were Cloud's, was spread out on the bed, arms akimbo and legs twisted up in the sheets. His mouth parted slightly and his nostrils flared as he snored away. Tifa shook her head and stepped into her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She lingered under the hot jet of water, until her skin was pink from the heat and the steam grew to almost unbearable levels. Her mind wandered back to last night, to the convoluted theories and tales. Words bubbled up in her thoughts- Geostigma, Reunion, degradation, Deepground, Hojo, Project G, protomateria. The three men had talked and talked and talked, until finally Tifa simply fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

_I might lose my mind yet_, she mused as she wrapped a fluffy white towel around her body and twirled her hair into a turban.

She had an awkward collision with Genesis on her way to her bedroom.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then seemed to notice who he'd bumped into. "On second thought," he added, his eyes roving over her in brief appreciation. Tifa punched his arm, and winced. His muscles were like steel. Genesis laughed and made his way to the bathroom. She heard the shower turn back on.

Fully dressed, she made herself a cup of coffee and returned to the living room, rejoining Spehiroth on the sofa. The sunlight filtering in through the window touched his silver hair and emerald eyes, illuminating his face. He looked strangely beautiful, in an otherworldly way.

"He means well."

Tifa raised her eyebrows. "Who?"

"Genesis."

"Oh." She shrugged and sipped her coffee. Her knuckles still hurt.

"Tifa."

"Mmm?" She peered at him through the steam rising up from her coffee.

"You've been neglecting your bar."

She laughed. "I think I might have to close it down for a bit, what with things being the way they are."

He looked at her, his eyes dancing with humour though his mouth was set in a frown. "Don't concern yourself with it."

Tifa snorted. "Look, whether you like it or not, I am going to be involved with... whatever is going to happen. I'm not just going to stick around here serving liquor and listening to drunk men whine about their lives."

"I see you're not a morning person." He set Lucrecia Crescent's file on the coffee table.

"No, I'm not an _idle_ person," she countered.

The humour in his eyes finally touched his mouth, and he smirked at her rather deviously. "No, you are not. Spar with me?"

Tifa choked on her coffee. "What? _Spar with you_?"

The smirk on his face widened. "Yes."

"What would the point of that be?"

Sephiroth shrugged. "I wish to see just how good of a fighter you are. If you're so determined to help rid the planet of Hojo and his perversions, I want to be assured you can hold your own." His eyes gleamed wickedly. "Unless you are afraid, in which case, never mind."

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. And it worked. "I am not afraid of you," she said. She set her mug down on the coffee table and got to her feet to stretch her limbs. "Let's spar."

Sephiroth stood up. It still amazed Tifa, how graceful he was for such a large and imposing figure. He didn't bother stretching, and simply watched her as she cracked her knuckles and flexed her fingers.

"Ready?" he asked.

Tifa got into a fighting stance. She was not ready to go into hand-to-hand combat with Sephiroth, knowing of course that he could easily kick her ass, but she wasn't going to back down.

"Are you?"

He mimicked her stance. His movements were languid, almost lazy. "Take the offensive," he suggested with a smile.

Tifa lunged forward with a right hook to his face. He dodged it easily, and she pulled back, alarmed at how fast he was. Too fast. Inhumanly fast.

"Focus," Sephiroth added softly.

Tifa scowled and took a shot at the grin on his face, but he caught her wrist easily and twisted her arm, though not enough to actually hurt. She slammed her elbow into his chest, but it had no effect on him, so she sailed in with her free hand. He deflected the hit with his shoulder, and Tifa winced. She aimed again, this time at his abdomen, a kidney shot that he dodged by releasing her wrist and dancing backwards.

"This is pointless," she said irritably.

"That's a poor attitude, Tifa." Sephiroth's elbow crashed into her ribs, sending her sprawling onto the carpet. "Perhaps you need some motivation," he added. "Don't hold back."

Tifa groaned and staggered to her feet, lunging at him. He didn't dodge her this time, instead meeting her halfway. She released a volley of punches, but he kept knocking her hands away easily. Against her better judgement she tried to land a high-kick, and Sephiroth seized her ankle, yanking her off-balance. She twisted and writhed to stay on her feet, and found herself in a headlock.

"Now what?" he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. Tifa let her body go lax against his as she contemplated. She worked out in her head exactly the location she wanted to hit him in and where that was relative to her feet. She aimed the heel of her right foot at his groin, but Sephiroth released her and her leg struck nothing but air.

She spun around. He was laughing. She aimed at his face, and he caught her wrist once more, but this time Tifa was ready. She kicked him in the chest, hard, and he staggered back slightly.

"Good for you." Sephiroth smiled, clearly amused and not taxed at all, but Tifa was panting heavily. A bead of sweat dripped down her temple.

"What _are you doing_?"

Tifa whirled around. Genesis leaned against the kitchen doorway, regarding them as though they'd both lost their minds. He had a cup of coffee in one hand.

"Sparring," Sephiroth said lightly, and Tifa found herself knocked to the floor once again. She caught herself this time, her palms hitting the carpet, and sprang to her feet easily. "Well done." He raised his hand before she could execute another attack. She happily obliged, collapsing on the sofa and massaging her ribs.

"That was a cheap shot," she muttered, gathering her hair in one hand and pulling it back.

Sephiroth sat beside her. "You're one to talk."

Tifa snorted. "Do you even have balls?"

Genesis laughed so hard tears sprang to his mako eyes.

Sephiroth gave her a look of affronted indignation "Of course. I may not be entirely human... genetically speaking, but I am for all intents and purposes biologically human."

"Hmph." She drank her lukewarm coffee, trying to ignore the blush that climbed into her cheeks.

"You're very good," Sephiroth added quietly.

The compliment surprised Tifa, and her cheeks grew even pinker. She had a feeling Sephiroth wasn't one to compliment somebody on their fighting technique unless he really meant it. "Thanks."

A knock at her front door cut through the quiet, and Tifa hauled herself to her feet to answer it. Vincent looked her up and down, his fathomless eyes taking in the sweat on her forehead and her reddened knuckles.

"You've been fighting."

"Come in," she offered, and he stepped into her apartment. "I was sparring. With Sephiroth."

A spectre of a smile flashed across Vincent's face. "I see." He wandered into her den, and Tifa trailed behind him.

"Where did you go?" she asked curiously.

"To the WRO. Reeve called me in." Vincent's expression grew serious. "Tifa, we need to discuss the situation." He eyed Sephiroth and Genesis. "In private."

To Tifa's surprise, Sephiroth nodded and got to his feet. He gestured for Genesis to follow him.

"I just woke up," the redhead argued. The look Sephiroth shot him must have wiped any arguments from his mind, because he stood with a heavy sigh.

On impulse Tifa grabbed Sephiroth's arm as he passed her. He gave her a searching look. "You'll come back?" she asked.

His face broke into a smile, still such a novelty for her. "Of course," he agreed.

She wrapped her arms around him- no easy feat, as his shoulders were quite broad- and hugged him fiercely. "Be careful."

Sephiroth's hands caressed the small of her back. "I am always careful."

Tifa let him go and chastised herself for being such a sap. "Okay."

Genesis grumbled with displeasure, but followed Sephiroth out the door.

"So," she addressed Vincent, who sat stiffly in one of the chairs. "What's up?"

"You have to tell Cloud." He looked up at her, his crimson eyes piercing.

She sunk into her sofa and put her head in her hands. This was the inevitable conversation she'd been dreading. The reality of the situation, and she'd been desperately avoiding it. Vincent coughed, drawing her attention back to him. "I can't." She gave him a pleading look. "Vincent..."

"Something's happening in Nibelheim," he interrupted. "The WRO is flooded with Missing Person reports from the surrounding area. Yesterday a man in Rocket Town called and said his wife went to buy groceries and never came back."

Tifa's stomach churned queasily. "Hojo?"

Vincent's grim expression suggested she was right. "Cloud needs to know. He's wasting time and energy worrying about Sephiroth, when clearly Sephiroth is the last thing we need to be concerned about. You need to call Barrett, and tell him to keep the children for awhile longer. I will call Cid. We must go to Cosmo Canyon."

"Sephiroth will want to come," she said.

"So he will," Vincent sighed. "He's protective of you."

Her heart fluttered, and she smiled despite the grim conversation. "Yeah, I know."

"It may help," Vincent continued, "if Sephiroth is present when you tell Cloud."

Tifa shook her head. "No, he's going to flip out. First of all, he won't believe me. And there's no way he'll believe Sephiroth. He'll just assume Sephiroth is... I don't know. Manipulating me."

"Has the thought crossed your mind?"

"No," she said immediately. "Vincent, I just...I don't think I can do that to Cloud. And...what if they hurt each other?"

"Tifa." Vincent shook his head. "I get the feeling that Sephiroth will gladly do whatever you ask of him."

"Yeah, well." Tifa finished her coffee and sighed. "He's not going to be pleased. He doesn't want me involved with any of this. He thinks I should be running my bar."

"He doesn't want you to be in danger."

"I can take care of myself, you know. It's not like..."

"I know," Vincent interrupted, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Does Sephiroth know? About the missing people?"

"No. Nor does Genesis. I'm not entirely sure how they would react. I half-suspect that they're only involved because it's personal."

Gooseflesh broke out on Tifa's arms, and she rubbed them unconsciously. "I don't know. I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to Cloud. I can't even explain it to myself."

Vincent pulled out his phone and raised an eyebrow at her. "Shall I call Cid?"

She groaned, resting her head in her hands. "Go ahead." She let her mind wander while he talked to the pilot. Sephiroth. Was it safe to bring him near Cloud? What if he lost it? That possibility always seemed to linger at the back of her mind, like dark clouds gathering on the horizon. She trusted him, she believed he was a different person now, but the speed at which he'd changed was startling. How much would it take, really, for him to flip back into a crazed maniac with a God complex?

* * *

**(Nibelheim)**

Reno shivered. Old pro that he was, this place still gave him the creeps. The air smelled rotten and mouldy. The floorboards squeaked. Something about being the only living thing in a huge mansion... just gave him the chills. It didn't help that this place used to be filled with Shinra employees.

"All right?" Rude grunted beside him.

"Yeah, fine." Years of practice meant Reno had no trouble injecting his voice with false confidence. He wished for a tall glass of scotch to soothe the prickly feeling in his chest and stomach. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here for a long time," he muttered.

"Check the basement," Rude suggested.

They took the spiralling wooden staircase down to the basement- it was even creepier down here. Part of the ceiling suddenly descended on them, and Reno shrieked in a very un-Turkish manner. Rude took a more practical approach, and fired three shots. Three large bats fell to the ground.

"Heh," Reno muttered, scratching the back of his neck and kicking one of the dead critters rather spitefully. "Scared me."

Rude's eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. "Cool it."

"I'm cool, I'm cool." Reno checked a door off to the left, and it swung open eerily. "Why's everything so creepy down here?" he groaned, pulling out his flashlight and shining it around. Bones. Human bones. Whole skeletons.

"Gross," Rude muttered in his ear.

"You're telling me." Reno flipped open one of the coffins, but it was mercifully empty. "Hop in," he joked. The look on Rude's face suggested he would much rather roll around in gasoline and set himself on fire.

"Funny."

They left the room, the door swinging shut behind them with a muted thud, and made their way down the corridor, into a laboratory.

"Goddamnit," Reno whispered. All the job experience in the world couldn't stop the horror from creeping into his voice. Beside him, Rude froze, his mouth parting slightly.

The place was _trashed_. Books everywhere, loose sheaves of paper littering the floor, pools of liquid mako here and there. But that wasn't frightening.

The bodies. They were frightening. They looked like they _might_ have been human, at some point. But not anymore. They had sickly, scabby grey skin and their limbs were twisted, deformed. Spindly fingers grasped at the air helplessly. Two of them were dead, but the third was still sucking in harsh, gasping breaths. It turned its hideous mako-infused eyes on Reno and snarled, revealing sharp, jagged teeth, then vomited up a load of steaming black slime.

"Goddamn," Reno repeated weakly.

Rude stepped forward and fired a round into the creature's skull. Brain matter and blood splattered everywhere, some of it hitting Reno's shoes. "Sorry," Rude muttered.

"Shit." Reno moved onward, into an adjacent room with a desk and more books. Again, it looked as though somebody had recently ransacked the place. Making sure Rude was occupied, Reno wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket and took a deep breath. "Nothing here," he said, returning to his partner's side.

"What are they?"

"I don't want to know." He gently tapped one of the monsters with the toe of his shoe. "Makes you wonder, though, doesn't it? We've been with Shinra a long time."

"And?"

"And Shinra let that scientist do shit like this. Makes you feel kind of..." He didn't know how to finish that thought.

Rude's rigid shoulders suddenly slumped. "Yeah."

"Let's get out of here. We still have to check the reactor." Reno turned on his heel and walked away from the sickening sight. Rude trailed after him silently. They knew each other well. Rude would let his partner work through his emotions. In some ways, being a Turk was like being a member of a very close-knit family.

It was a tremendous relief to walk out of the Shinra Mansion and into the sunlight. Nibelheim, despite its troubled past, remained a bright and cheerful little village. Most of the employees Shinra had hired to impersonate dead townspeople had elected to stay after Meteorfall- they'd grown to genuinely love their home. In fact, Nibelheim was growing. People seemed morbidly interested in the place; they were drawn to it like flies to a rotting corpse.

"Nice, isn't it?" Reno said finally, looking down the cobbled street.

"Sure," Rude agreed.

Several young children had gathered around the Shinra helicopter, and they studied it with interest. Most of them, Reno guessed, had never seen a helicopter before. He smiled despite himself.

"Well, let's go." He nodded towards the dirt path that snaked past the town and up towards the mountains, the poisonous heart of a monster. Reno sincerely hoped that heart wasn't beating anymore.

* * *

**(Edge)**

"I'm coming with you."

"I know," Tifa said wearily.

Sephiroth paced the length of her den, back and forth, over and over again. He was agitated. Tifa hadn't seen him like this before. It scared her, but in a different way. She wasn't scared of him, but for him. She worried about his mental health. She worried about his physical health.

"Why can't you stay here?" He gave her a final, desperate plea. "Where you're safe."

Tifa found herself in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. She raised her eyes to meet his. "I _will_ be safe. I'll have you with me."

"I don't want to fight Cloud," he murmured, so only she could hear him. "I don't want it to come to that."

"I'll do my best." Tifa let her hands fall to her sides. "If there's anyone he'll listen to, it's me. But Sephiroth... you've done more damage to him than you have to me. It's going to be a miracle if he even decides to hear you out."

"I'll be there. As a buffer," Genesis offered.

"Does Cloud know about Genesis, at least?" Tifa asked Vincent.

"He knows of him, but not that he's... alive."

"And Cid? What's he going to do when you tell him we have two extra passengers?"

Vincent shrugged. "You know Cid."

A string of highly offensive profanity ran through Tifa's mind. She gave an infinitesimal little sigh. "Alright."

Sephiroth brushed her shoulder with his hand, drawing her attention back to him. She could only fathom what he was feeling right now. His shoulders were rigid with tension, his emerald eyes unreadable. "Tifa... can sins... truly be forgiven?"

She saw the weight of it all in his eyes, the remorse that must plague him every waking minute. She gripped his muscular arm tightly. "Yes."

* * *

"Tifa!" Cid Highwind embraced her in a crushing hug. "Was wondering when you'd get around to calling me," he added, shooting Vincent a surly look.

"We have two more passengers," Vincent said.

"Huh? What?" He glanced between Tifa and Vincent, who looked at each other uncertainly. Tifa rested her hand on Cid's shoulder.

"Cid, you trust me right?"

He scratched his head. "Yeah, course I trust you. Why, what's going on?"

"You trust my judgement?"

"Sure. Goddamnit, what's going on?" he demanded, raising his voice.

"Genesis?" she called.

The ex-SOLDIER stepped into the cockpit. He gawked around, looking quite impressed with his surroundings. Still clad in his red and black SOLDIER clothes, he cut a very imposing figure. Tifa was relieved to see that he had the sense to hide his wing under his coat. "Marvellous," he commented, his eyes glittering with excitement.

"The hell are you?"

"Genesis Rhapsodos. You must be our pilot." Genesis extended his hand politely. Cid burst into a round of cussing.

"#$%#! OUR pilot! I'm THE pilot. This is MY airship. What the hell is going on here?"

"Cid," Tifa said soothingly, keeping her hand on his shoulder lest he decide to attack Genesis. "It's okay. Genesis is going to help us take care of Hojo." His reaction did not bode well for Sephiroth. Cid's sky-blue eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets.

"Oh yeah? Never $#$% heard of him. What's he got to do with this?"

"Everything," Genesis said. He was staring at Cid, his eyes wide and wary. "Tifa, is this man sane?"

"$##%$##$ kid! What's that supposed to mean? Course I'm sane." Cid flashed Tifa a rather rueful look. "Alright, where's passenger number two? You're gonna give me a heart attack, woman."

"Sorry... listen, Cid. He's not going to hurt us, okay? He's different... I mean, he's still the same, but... well, you'll see. Just trust me, okay?" She patted his shoulder awkwardly. Vincent stood beside him, ready to intervene if the need arose.

Sephiroth stepped into the cockpit. He too looked impressed with his surroundings, but he kept his focus on Tifa. She thought she saw his eyes darken when he noticed her hand on Cid's shoulder, but he immediately brought his attention to the pilot's face.

"Naw, c'mon." Cid looked at Tifa helplessly. "Get outta here."

"It's okay, Cid. Really," she soothed. He shook his head, speechless. "Sephiroth, this is Cid Highwind."

Sephiroth moved forward cautiously.

Cid grabbed Tifa around her waist and yanked her back, putting himself between her and Sephiroth. "You... #%$ stay back. I'll fight you if I have to!"

"Cid, you don't have to fight him. It's okay, I promise you." She sidestepped the pilot and went to Sephiroth, settling her hand on his arm. "See?"

"What've you done to her?"

"He's done nothing," Vincent interjected calmly. "You trust her judgement, don't you?"

"Yeah, but...I mean..." Cid spluttered helplessly.

"Marvellous!" Genesis cried, drawing their attention to him. He was poking at the blinking, flashing control panel, his mako eyes wide with wonder. Tifa withheld the slightly hysterical laugh that threatened to escape her lips.

"Hey you! Don't touch nothin'!"

"Ah, but it's fascinating, isn't it? Technology has come so very far. Tell me, Mr. Highwind, could you teach me how to operate this great metal beast?"

"##%$," Cid groaned, pulling his hands through his greying blond hair. "I'll mister you... #$#%$$#$#%$#$#$%!"  
Tifa winced. Sephiroth eyed Cid with mild amazement. He probably had never heard so many curse words in his life. She remembered the first time she met Cid. It had been quite a shock, of course, but under the tough exterior and foul language, she knew he had a heart of gold.

"Cid," she coaxed gently, and he gave her a helpless look. "Please, believe me..."

"I'm here to help," Sephiroth added quietly. "The only score I wish to settle is with Hojo."

"Load of bull," Cid grumbled weakly. His face had gone white with shock. "You might've given me a heads-up," he snapped at Vincent. "Told me you'd be bringin' a psycho and a $$#%$ kid with you." He jerked his head at Genesis, who looked highly affronted.

"I'll have you know..." Genesis answered, drawing his shoulders up, but Sephiroth cut him off swiftly.

"That'll do, Genesis."

The redhead took a leaf out of Cid's book and cursed quietly. "Can we move on, then? I wish to see what this airship can do."

Cid gave Sephiroth one last cursory look. "Alright. Fine. But you stick one toe out of line and I'll throw your ass off at thirteen thousand feet, got it? I'm not saying I believe you. But I know Tifa wouldn't put her friends in danger, so I'm gonna assume you're being honest."

Sephiroth immediately relaxed. "So... you do believe me?"

"No, goddamnit. $#$#%#! But I believe Tifa." Cid marched up to the steering wheel, shoving Genesis aside. "Outta my way. Don't mess with things if you don't know how to work 'em." He flipped a lever, and the _Shera_ roared to life.

Genesis turned an interesting shade of pink that clashed madly with his red hair, and stomped over to the wide glass window to peer out at the retreating ground. "Is he all there?" he whispered to Vincent.

"Most of the time," Vincent answered idly.

Tifa stifled another laugh and tugged Sephiroth towards the front of the deck. She thought he would appreciate the view of the world unfurling below them. He followed her readily, a monster turned man that seemed willing to bend over backwards for her.


	10. Denial Barrier

**A/N: Burst of productivity... love it. I hope this chapter isn't too long-winded and dreary. I know, it's a dreadfully slow build-up to a big confrontation... but oh well. **

**My gratitude for the wonderful feedback. **

* * *

**Chapter #10**

**Denial Barrier**

"So," Cid addressed Vincent, "fill me in. The hell's goin' on?"

Tifa allowed herself a small smile. She was sitting with Sephiroth at the very front of the _Shera_, and they were watching the ocean stretch out endlessly in front of them, a great glittering sapphire in the late afternoon sun. The sky was a pure, crystalline blue, without even a wisp of clouds.

She leaned her head against his massive shoulder and sighed. There was a feeling in the atmosphere of the calm before a vicious storm.

"Tifa." His deep baritone voice soothed her.

"Mmm?"

"Are you afraid?"

"No," she murmured, "just nervous."

He turned his piercing eyes on her, and she looked up at him as he blinked slowly, oddly reminiscent of a cat. "Your capacity for forgiveness astounds me."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to gaze at him. He appeared lost in thought, his eyes distant and his expression unreadable. "You say it like it's a bad thing," she said playfully, hoping to bring a smile to his face, because she liked the way he smiled at her. She liked it a bit too much. But Sephiroth didn't smile. He sighed.

"Maybe it is."

Tifa shook her head. "Melodramatic."

He did smile then, briefly. "Aren't we all?"

Tifa automatically glanced at Genesis. He was standing behind Cid and watching him steer the airship, his expression mirroring extreme curiosity and delight. "You're not as bad as him."

"Really?" Sephiroth mused darkly.

She groaned "How long are you going to beat yourself up over it?"

"You may have forgiven me, but I haven't. It's not in my nature. Besides," Sephiroth gave her a severe look, "I hardly deserve it."

Her arm found its way around his broad shoulders, a considerable reach, and she squeezed him gently. She'd gotten so accustomed to his presence, she treated him like an old friend. The realization probably should have disturbed her. Instead she found it deeply amusing. "Debatable," she said lightly.

"Tifa..."

She waited, expecting him to counter her with a comment about guilt or redemption.

"Never mind," he finished awkwardly.

That piqued her curiosity. It wasn't like him to not speak his mind. "What is it?"

"You spoke with Shinra yesterday?"

Tifa glanced at him, slightly suspicious now. "How did you know that?"

Sephiroth looked embarrassed. The expression definitely didn't suit his imposing character. "I checked your phone," he said brusquely, like it was no big deal.

Tifa took her arm away from his shoulders. "You checked my phone to see who called me?" she asked in amazement.

He scratched his head awkwardly, tousling his glossy silver hair. "I was concerned. You'd left your phone at your apartment and I thought perhaps... something had happened... "

"Oh." She couldn't fathom why Sephiroth would snoop through her phone, what he thought he might find there.

"You... know Reno? The Turk?" His voice sounded odd- she'd never heard that tone before. She nodded slowly. He scratched his head again. "He's... I mean to say... you know him well?"

"I wouldn't say I know him _very_ well, but... why do you ask?" Where was he going with this? Did he know she'd spoken to Shinra about him? Would he be angry with her? But she hadn't told them anything, really. Just the bare minimum.

Over by the steering wheel, Genesis chuckled loudly. Tifa glanced at him. He was watching her and Sephiroth, and when she met his eyes he tipped her a rather sly wink.

"Never mind," Sephiroth muttered, drawing her attention away from the devious redhead and back to the man beside her.

Tifa huffed impatiently. She wasn't used to him being so vague, and it irritated her. "What's gotten into you?"

"Involving yourself with a Turk... unsavoury characters..." he muttered under his breath.

"Huh? Involving myself with Turks?" She raised her eyebrows in bemusement. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't mind Reno the Turk calling you _honey_?" he asked finally.

Tifa could scarcely believe her ears. She rubbed her temples, blinked rapidly, and tilted her head. Had she misheard him, or was Sephiroth really asking her if she was... involved, with Reno? "What?" she asked stupidly, sure she'd misunderstood.

"He was very friendly on the phone." Again that bitterness crept into his voice, a sour note tainting his usually self-assured manner of speaking.

Tifa didn't know whether to be angry at him for prodding where he shouldn't be, or flattered because he was so determined to look out for her. She had a sneaking suspicion he was jealous, and for some reason that she didn't care to explore, that suspicion brought a fluttery feeling to her chest.

She laughed. Sephiroth gave her a rather dejected look that most definitely didn't suit him.

"Okay," Tifa said, choking back her laughter and straightening her face with great difficulty. "First of all, I _do_ mind Reno calling me honey. In fact, I usually threaten to smack him when he does." Sephiroth's face brightened considerably. "Secondly, Reno's friendly with anyone who remotely resembles a female. And thirdly, I would _never_ get involved with him. Not because he's a Turk, though. Just because he's... well, he's a player."

"Oh." Sephiroth tried to sound casual, but she heard the relief that seeped through his voice. "Well."

She leaned her head against him once more, and he slipped a heavily muscled arm around her shoulders. The unnatural calm lay over them like a blanket. She didn't trust it. A sinking feeling in her gut told her that something terrible was going to happen, though she couldn't fathom what it might be. But she had Sephiroth by her side. As unholy as their friendship was, he made her feel safe. The silence that enveloped them, far from being awkward, felt good and natural. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.

* * *

The airship landed in Cosmo Canyon at dusk, as the last bit of light trickled out of the western sky. They were all nervous, but none more so than Tifa. She paced the length of the deck in a slow, meandering way, throwing an occasional look of pure anxiety at Sephiroth. He was too calm, given the situation. Far too calm, as was Vincent. Though to say they were actually calm would be incorrect.

Vincent stood by Sephiroth, his gun drawn and ready. He seemed to find comfort in the feel of cold metal against his fingers- he kept stroking the barrel in an oddly tender way. Genesis, upon discovering that Cid had once seen the play LOVELESS but had slept through all but the very last act, had decided to give the pilot his own interpretation. Cid looked as though he wanted to doze through this version as well, but the nervous twitch in his cheek suggested he was too wound-up for sleep.

Tifa tried to shake the anxiety that had settled into her body, but it clung to her with dogged stubbornness. She stopped her endless pacing when she was in front of Sephiroth and Vincent, and let out a long, low sigh.

"Relax, Tifa." Vincent looked down at her, his crimson eyes unknowable.

"I'm trying," she muttered, and continued on; she felt as though all the energy pent-up inside of her would tear her chest open soon. She kept having mental flashes of Cloud and Sephiroth fighting. She'd seen them fight only once, really, but that one time had been frightening enough for the memory to be permanently lodged in her mind.

_Cloud,_ she thought wildly,_ please trust me. Please, if you can't trust him... trust me_.

She could see Cosmo Candle from her vantage point on the _Shera_. It made her smile, despite her keyed-up state. Sephiroth would like it here. He would enjoy sitting by the fire, under the stars, watching the light flicker and dance and cast shadows across the canyon walls.

_I'm sorry Cloud. I'm not a very good friend, am I?_

"Tifa, you're starting to worry me," Genesis said, falling in step with her and linking his arm with hers.

"Why?" she asked distractedly. "Don't worry."

"I'm worried about you," he said.

That broke her focus on keeping the rising anxiety in her chest under control, and she turned her attention to the man beside her. His hair flamed a vibrant red in the artificial light. "I'm okay," she muttered, and realized belatedly that Genesis had slowly steered her away from the others. She looked up at him- he was quite tall, though not as tall as Sephiroth- and raised her eyebrows, questioning.

"He's not as strong as you think he is."

She knew who he was referring to. Tifa glanced at her silver-haired friend, then back at Genesis. She had a feeling this conversation wouldn't be a cheerful one. "What do you mean?"

Genesis considered her for a moment, his mako-infused eyes piercing right through her. It was an uncomfortable sensation, as though he was peeling back the layers of her skin and studying what lay underneath. "He needs you."

"Sephiroth?" She scoffed at the idea. He didn't need her.

"Yes. And it worries me, because he's never needed anybody before. Or anything, for that matter. He's changed."

"And why are you worried about me?" Tifa asked quietly.

"Because you have a power over him." Genesis rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. "And I think it disturbs you more than you let on."

She'd taken him for all show, ironic humour and a slightly eccentric personality. But underneath that front lay a sharp and clever observer. Tifa didn't think she'd ever been so misled by anyone before. She made a note to keep a closer eye on him in the future. "Is he sick, Genesis?"

He didn't mince his words. "Yes. He has... episodes."

"Vomiting episodes?"

"So you've seen it."

"Yeah," she whispered, and glanced at Sephiroth with mounting concern. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know. But Tifa, listen to me." He took her shoulders gently, his eyes softening as he stared down at her. "He needs you. You give him peace. Do you love him?"

Tifa swallowed nervously. Her throat felt tight, her chest oddly heavy. "Love him?"

"Yes. Do you love him?"

She didn't know if she could answer that question. It bore too much weight, brought up too many other questions in her own mind that she really couldn't handle right now. "In what way?"

"You know."

She was frightened that her answer wasn't a resounding "no," frightened that she had to think about it. She couldn't deny how Sephiroth made her feel- safe, special, like a fine treasure that was worth protecting. He would do anything for her. Genesis was right. She had a great deal of power over Sephiroth, and it did disturb her, but it also gave her a fierce sort of pleasure. "I don't know," she concluded.

Their conversation was cut short by Sephiroth himself; he walked over to them, his eyes resting on Genesis suspiciously. Genesis leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Just don't hurt him." He let go of shoulders and straightened.

"Something wrong?" Sephiroth asked loudly, his voice cutting through the awkward silence.

"No, just giving Tifa a word of advice." Genesis patted her shoulder and stepped back.

Hurt him? She frowned at the redhead, but he refused to make eye contact with her now, instead turning to Sephiroth.

"Try to keep that temper in check, General."

"My temper is perfectly fine," Sephiroth answered irritably, resting his hand on Tifa's shoulder protectively. Funny, how it felt entirely different when he did it, as opposed to Genesis. The warmth sank through her shirt and into her skin, soothing, though not enough to stop the trembling that began to course through her as Cid cut the engine and the airship shut down.

"All right, everyone get the hell off my ship."

Tifa found herself sandwiched between Sephiroth and Genesis as they set out on foot towards the entrance to the canyon. She saw no reason to complain about this arrangement, though Cid kept throwing menacing glares at the two ex-SOLDIERs; clearly he didn't trust them. Vincent, however, seemed to find Tifa's position amusing, though anyone who didn't know Vincent would say he looked far from humoured.

As always, one of the Elders stood watch at the entrance. His kind eyes took them in, flickering from Cid to Vincent with recognition and pleasure, then widening in alarm at the sight of the two men flanking Tifa.

"I assume by your calm demeanour that he is with you," the Elder said carefully. His voice, like the voice of everyone at Cosmo Canyon, was peaceful and diplomatic. "I'm afraid I can't let you in without the permission of..."

"Nanaki will let us in," Vincent said. He spoke quietly, as always, but he had one of those voices that automatically made a person want to listen. Tifa knew the hypnotic power of that voice. She wound her arm through Sephiroth's and leaned against him for support. Her legs seemed to have gone quite weak as another one of Cosmo Canyon's residents went to fetch Nanaki.

"Don't worry, Tifa." Sephiroth's voice was even more hypnotic than Vincent's, but Tifa didn't think even a tranquilizer would calm her down at this point- her entire body shook like a leaf being buffeted in a brisk wind.

_Please, Cloud... please...understand..._

She hadn't doubted herself or her judgement on Sephiroth since he'd shown up in Edge that night and told her he'd changed, but now, as Nanaki trotted towards them, the flame on the end of his tail throwing a halo of orange light around him, doubt flared in her mind. Maybe she was wrong. This was all wrong. Maybe he was manipulating her. He had several members of Avalanche in one place now, and Genesis at his side... she was such an idiot...

Nanaki growled when he noticed Tifa and the position she was in. His eyes swung to Vincent. "What is this?"

"He talks!" Genesis exclaimed softly.

"Of course he can talk," Sephiroth muttered.

"We've come to fill you in," Vincent said, his tone still unnaturally calm. Tifa took great comfort in the fact that he had his gun drawn- it made her feel safe. He was an impeccable marksman, a perfect aim.

"Don't $#$%$# ask me about it. I'm clueless." Cid muttered.

"Nanaki," Tifa said, and peeled herself away from the ex-SOLDIERs. She knelt down and scratched him behind his ear, knowing it was his favourite place as far as petting went. Generally he refused to allow people to treat him like a common dog, but young children and Tifa seemed to be the exception. Aerith too, when she'd been alive. "You trust me, don't you?"

He looked up at her, his intelligent eyes softening. "Of course, Tifa. I would trust you with my life."

She hugged him- his wet nose brushed against her cheek as he nuzzled her briefly. His tail flicked back and forth, a clear sign of aggravation. "Where's Cloud?"

"He is asleep. We had a productive day. He was going to call you in the morning." His eyes searched hers. "Tifa?"

She stroked his shoulder. "He's here to help. I wish I could explain, Nanaki, but..."

"He hasn't hurt you?"

"No, of course not. He's... changed. You believe me, don't you?"

Nanaki inclined his head. "If you tell me he's an ally, then I'll treat him as such." But his eyes flickered slightly, and Tifa pursed her lips, worried.

"How can I prove it to you?"

"There is no need. I believe you."

She could tell he didn't, not completely. "Look," she said, and went to Sephiroth. She took his hand in hers, and noticed his palm was quite clammy. Nervous. She pulled him forward. "Sephiroth, this is Nanaki. He's a wonderful friend, and wise beyond his years. Nanaki... you know," she finished helplessly, and got her first smile from the flame-furred canine.

"I know."

"You have a tattoo," Sephiroth said quietly.

Nanaki stepped forward, his nostrils flaring, sniffing out the ex-SOLDIER. His intelligent brown eyes were wary but curious. "Hojo," he said.

Vincent made an odd noise in his throat, a brief growl that made Cid jump and glare at him reproachfully.

"Hojo..." Genesis echoed quietly.

Sephiroth squeezed Tifa's hand so hard she thought her fingers might snap in half. He seemed completely unaware that he was still holding it. "Nanaki," she said, "he's my friend. He saved my life. Twice."

Nanaki inclined his head. "My gratitude, Sephiroth."

The ex-SOLDIER shrugged. "Tifa has a knack for putting herself in perilous situations."

Tifa scowled at him, but Sephiroth kept his eyes on Nanaki. She saw a muscle in his cheek twitch, though, and knew he was making a jibe at her. She wriggled her fingers against his hand, trying to draw his attention to the fact that he was holding on so tightly her wrist was about to snap off. He looked down at their hands, then up at her, and loosened his grip, his brilliant green eyes flashing her an unspoken apology.

"And you must be Genesis Rhapsodos." Nanaki turned his attention to the auburn-haired man. "Of Project G."

"Yes, that's me," Genesis said, stepping forward. "Ex-SOLDIER, first class."

"You I am not so surprised to see. You, on the other hand..." Nanaki's eyes flickered back to Sephiroth.

"I'm too old for this crap. It's late and I've been up for sixteen hours," Cid declared, barrelling past all of them and heading towards the stairway carved into the face of the canyon. "Tifa, if yonder lunatic decides to kill me in my sleep, I'm blaming you." He gestured at Sephiroth, then began his ascent of the staircase. Tifa could hear his asthmatic smoker's wheeze as he struggled along.

Sephiroth crouched in front of Nanaki so their eyes were level. "I'm not asking for forgiveness, nor am I asking anyone to trust me. My only request is that you hear me out."

"I will do so. Cloud, however..." Nanaki trailed off and glanced at Tifa pointedly. "Shall we take this discussion inside?" He turned and trotted through the entrance, heading towards Cosmo Candle without waiting for an answer. Tifa settled her hand back into Sephiroth's- the action was so familiar now, the way his fingers curled around hers, his roughened palms- and they followed Nanaki. Like a small child discovering a new toy, Sephiroth's eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly when he realized they were going to sit near the enormous fire.

Tifa ducked her head to hide her grin. It shouldn't have made her smile, because she knew the horrific root of his fascination with fire. Destructive but necessary, he'd told her. It felt like several lifetimes ago. But how could destruction be necessary? What was the point, the purpose? What good came out of such chaos?

"Tifa," Vincent said. She shot a glance at the gunman walking behind her. Behind the cloak that rose up around his face, she swore she saw a smile. She couldn't fathom why Vincent had chosen this moment to finally express his emotions. His eerie red eyes glittered in the firelight, the faintest hint of mischief in them.

"Yeah?" She was never one to pass up a moment of fun in the middle of a serious situation, so she flashed him a grin.

"As an ex-Turk I feel it's my duty to inform you that all Turks are scum, and any relationship entered with them is doomed."

"What?"

"Though, I suppose I can't fault you for _involving_ yourself with Reno. I hear he's quite the Casanova."

Her delight at seeing Vincent emoting turned into disbelief. "You..."

"Does he live up to his reputation?" The gunman was now struggling not to laugh; his shoulders shook slightly under his fluttering red cape.

"Tasteless," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. He must have eavesdropped on her conversation with Sephiroth earlier.

"Do you call _him_ honey as well?"

Tifa willed the man to curl up and fry to a crisp under her glare, but Vincent stared back at her, his eyes wide with contrived innocence. She decided to fight fire with fire. If he wanted to make fun of her, he would have to suffer the consequences. After her harrowing experience as Sephiroth's captive, and dealing with his volatile temper, she was hardly afraid of the likes of Vincent or any reaction he might have. "I would never get involved with a Turk. Or even an ex-Turk, for that matter," she said sweetly.

Sephiroth, who had been pretending not to listen in on this conversation, snorted quietly.

"Ex-SOLDIERs are a different matter, I suppose," Vincent replied calmly.

Tifa bristled. That was a step too far on his part. Whether he was referring to Cloud or Sephiroth, or perhaps both, he had to know it was a touchy subject. As they settled themselves around Cosmo Candle, Sephiroth on her one side and Vincent on her other, she took a moment to bask in the heat being thrown off by the fire before forming her rebuttal.

"Well..."

"Ignore him," Genesis cut in. "You can't compare a SOLDIER to a Turk. We've much higher moral standards than them."

She smiled and glanced at Sephiroth. He was no longer paying attention to the conversation, having been entranced by the dancing, flickering fire in front of him. He watched the flames lick at the darkness, his green eyes reflecting the light..

"Sephiroth, you have my full attention," Nanaki said, resting on his haunches and gazing at the ex-SOLDIER.

He looked up, drawn out of his reverie by the creature sitting across from him, and gave a long, low sigh. "I saved Tifa from being used in an experiment. I wish I could tell you I did it out of the goodness of my heart, but of course that would be a lie. I simply wanted to get her away from Hojo. And I didn't know what to do with her. I thought perhaps I should kill her, but for some reason I couldn't do that. I found myself developing affection for her." Sephiroth glanced at Tifa rather shyly, and smiled. "Though we got off on the wrong foot, to be sure."

"Hmph." Tifa ducked her head to hide her answering smile.

"I let her go, and had full intentions of... disappearing from the world. I thought I could walk away from the damage I'd left behind me, but it wasn't that simple. I felt... remorse. I keep going over it in my head, everything I've done, and... I would give my life to take it back. Obviously I cannot change what I did, but I can change what I _will_ do."

"I'm curious to know how _you_ reacted to all of this, Tifa," Vincent said.

"He's persuasive," she answered, yawning. The heat was making her tired, sucking all the energy out of her, and despite the tense situation they were in, the anxiety slowly but surely began to bleed out of her. So long as Nanaki, Vincent, and Cid believed her, and believed Sephiroth, she really had no reason to worry. Still, she was concerned for Cloud. How would he take all of this? Would he be able to keep his head? Would he lose it?

"You're tired." Sephiroth kept his voice low enough for only her to hear.

She turned her head to meet his piercing gaze. He looked so strikingly beautiful in the firelight. The way it deepened the color of his eyes to a dark, mossy green, and the way it made his mane of hair shimmer slightly. His delicately carved features were highlighted by the shadows playing across his face. She realized she was staring, quite rudely, and looked down, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm fine."

He raised his hand, and she gave him a warning glance. He laughed. "I won't put you to sleep."

She laughed with him, quietly. It drew the attention of her fellow Avalanche comrades. Vincent raised one fine, dark eyebrow at her, and Nanaki cocked his head to the side. Genesis smiled rather smugly, earning a reproachful glare from Sephiroth.

"Can't blame me for being suspicious," Tifa murmured.

"Certainly not." Sephiroth reached out to her again, laying his hand on her forearm. His skin was pleasantly warm, the palm of his hand calloused from years of wielding a sword. She liked the roughness of his skin in contrast to the tender gesture. Realizing her mind was wandering into rather dangerous and unstable territory, Tifa gave herself a mental shake.

"If you wish, you may retire," Nanaki said.

She looked up at him over the flames leaping into the air. "I'm fine," she repeated, so that everyone around the fire could hear her.

"Mental exhaustion is more dangerous than physical exhaustion, Tifa." Sephiroth was drawing stick figures in the rust-red dirt. She looked down, amused, as he drew two figures, one with long hair, another with a sword. They were holding hands. His eyes flickered to hers, and they shared a private joke while the others watched them in bemusement.

"Vincent, join me in my study," Nanaki said, and got to his feet. He addressed Sephiroth. "Welcome to Cosmo Canyon. Feel free to make use of the library. I only ask that you steer clear of the guestroom near the weapon shop, as Cloud is currently sleeping there. I trust you will not cause trouble. This is a place of discovery, and peace. Please honour that."

Sephiroth inclined his head. He showed no signs of being offended by the implication that he would cause trouble or disturb the peace. "Of course."

"I wish to see the files Vincent mentioned. The files on the G project." Genesis leapt to his feet, becoming suddenly alert, shaking off the quiet air that had descended on him. He followed Vincent and Nanaki. "I shall see you in the morning, Tifa. Sephiroth," he said over his shoulder.

In a flutter of red fabric Vincent passed by them, trailing after Nanaki in his slow, meandering way.

She was alone with Sephiroth. Now that Tifa thought about it, she hadn't been alone with him for quite some time.

"They did it on purpose." He sounded amused, if slightly irked.

"Did what?" she asked, feigning ignorance to her friends' scheming. He gave her a knowing look, and she caved. "Okay, they did it on purpose." She decided to take this opportunity to talk to him without prying eyes and ears. "So... how are you feeling about seeing Cloud?"

Sephiroth shifted, and it occurred to Tifa that she'd just made him uncomfortable. She wondered why. Was he that reluctant to discuss his feelings? "I... am nervous, I suppose. There is one horror I've caused that I have yet to confront... and Cloud will undoubtedly throw it at me when we do meet."

"Aerith."

He turned his vibrant eyes on her. "I have no excuse. I have no good reason. I can't claim insanity on that particular incident. She was an innocent girl. A silly, foolish girl, but an innocent one."

Tifa didn't want to hear about Aerith. There lied a great deal of emotions she wasn't truly ready to confront. And it seemed Sephiroth felt the same way. As did Cloud. "Volatile," she murmured, more to herself than him.

"Extremely. Shall we retire? Tomorrow will be a very trying day for everyone. It would be prudent for you to get as much rest as possible."

That he was thinking about her well-being when he should have been thinking about his own made her feel oddly warm and fuzzy. Like he'd thrown a thick fleece blanket over her. "Okay," she agreed, and realized a heartbeat later that he'd said "we." It felt like an extra blanket thrown on the one already wrapped around her.


	11. Bodyguard

**A/N: If you squint hard enough, behold! A symbolic reference in the chapter title. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. Dear, I do tend to blather, don't I?**

* * *

**Chapter #11**

**Bodyguard**

"Tifa, wake up."

A warm, calloused hand nudged her cheek, rousing her from the strange dream she'd been having. The smell of smoke and something else remained in her mind as she came back to reality. "Huh?"

"Something's happening." Sephiroth hovered over her, his green eyes guarded and wary.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up slowly. The fragments of her dream, already vague and hazy, fell out of reach. Her fighter's instincts kicked in, years of training and stress having honed them to sharp perfection, and she became awake and alert within seconds. "What is it?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.

Sephiroth straightened. "There's a helicopter outside."

"A helicopter?" She rushed out of the room, Sephiroth on her tail, and peered out at the canyon floor below her. In the darkness she could make out the Shinra chopper, parked right next to the _Shera_, and a group of people standing off to the side. She turned to Sephiroth. "Shinra. I wonder why they're here?"

"Shinra," he echoed, the note of distaste in his voice clear as a bell.

Tifa made to climb down the ladder, but Sephiroth gently grabbed her arm. She looked at his hand, gripping her firmly, then up at him. "Sephiroth..."

"I can't go down there," he said. She could tell he wanted to, by the look on his face. He wanted to see what was going on, but he had the good sense to know that revealing himself to Shinra was not a smart move.

She also knew he didn't want her going down there alone. Did she dare ask him to wait here? "I can't just stand here..." she began, and was not surprised when he cut her off mid-sentence.

"Go. I will wait here."

His complacency surprised her, and Tifa let out a mental sigh of relief. "Okay." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a fierce hug, and when they finally parted, he gave her a quizzical look.

"You'll be fine," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching oddly.

She nodded and swung herself down onto the rope ladder. Sephiroth crouched in front of her to meet her eyes. He seemed suddenly amused, the worry momentarily gone from his face. "Report back, Tifa."

She couldn't suppress a grin at his militant tone. "Yes, sir," she said sternly, saluting him before scaling down the rope ladder to the canyon floor. Several feet from the ground she jumped, stirring up a cloud of dust around her feet, and hurried towards the chopper. Her stomach twisted into a knot of anxiety at the sight of spiky blond hair sticking up from one of the people huddling beside the chopper.

"What's going on?" she asked. Vincent, Nanaki, and Cloud all turned to her, surprised by her sudden appearance. Genesis was conspicuously absent from the group, but another man with flaming-red locks caught her attention. "Reno!" she gasped.

He looked terrible. His lip had been split open, and a trail of dry blood stained his chin. A black eye was beginning to shadow the left side of his face, and his arm stuck out at a funny but painful-looking angle. He looked exhausted, and his aqua eyes were oddly flat, not as bright as usual. But at the sound of his name, he managed a tired grin and a sly wink. "Hey honey."

She shook her head, holding back a retort. "What happened?"

"Tifa!" Cloud said, staring at her, his electric blue eyes shocked and slightly wary. "What are you doing here?"

She shot him a brief glance. He looked almost as tired as Reno; there were dark smudges under his eyes, and his hair was unwashed and wild. He seemed paler than usual, probably from huddling over papers in the library for the past few days. She waved the question away. "Never mind that. Reno," she put a hand on the redhead's arm, the one that wasn't broken, "what happened to you?"

"Got into a scrap."

A snort from behind Reno drew Tifa's attention to the other Turk, Rude. He looked even worse than his partner. His sunglasses were cracked, there was a vicious cut on his head that still leaked blood, and a rainbow of bruises covered his neck and face. It was the first time she'd seen Rude look less than the perfectly composed Turk. His tie was crooked, and for some reason that scandalized her more than his injuries did.

"A scrap?" she echoed weakly.

"We came to see Cloud," Rude said.

"Tifa, what are you doing here?" Cloud demanded, his tone taking on a hint of impatience.

"You didn't expect me to just sit around washing dishes, did you?" she shot back. Reno smirked, and Rude let out a short guffaw of amusement. Turks. Even after they'd just taken a beating, they still carried on being jerks. Tifa admired that about them. Even with a busted arm, Reno played the slick player, and even with his scalp sliced open, Rude kept his cool.

"No, but..." Cloud paused.

"But what, Cloud?"

"Tifa..."

Vincent stepped forward and cut him off. "Priorities. They," he nodded at the two Turks, "require medical attention. Then they will tell us what happened, and why they are here. And after that," his eyes flickered from Cloud to Tifa, "you two can get into your argument."

Tifa wanted nothing more than to give Vincent a hug. But somehow she doubted the stoic gunman would appreciate that, so she settled with shooting him a grateful smile.

"Come," Nanaki said, glancing at Tifa briefly, considering her. "Vincent is correct. You need medical attention. Especially that arm," he said to Reno.

"What, this arm?" Reno pointed with his good arm to his broken one. "It's nothing."

Tifa, Rude, and Vincent all snorted at the same time, making for a truly bizarre chorus of noise. Nanaki led them all up the stairway and into his study. Tifa cast a wistful glance at the observatory, her mind going to Sephiroth. He would like it in there. She wished things weren't so complicated. She wished she could simply go get him, drag him into the observatory and watch the stars with him.

Cloud rested his hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention to him. "Tifa..."

"Later," she said, nodding at the two Turks. They collapsed in unison on a squashy blue sofa, and Reno cradled his broken arm against him, grimacing slightly from the pain.

Nanaki leaped onto the sofa and settled himself between the Turks. He turned first to Reno. "This may tingle slightly. Don't worry- my cure materia is very well-developed." He gave himself a little shake, his mane bristling slightly, and an unearthly green light began to shimmer its way up Reno's body, from his feet to his head. The cut on his lip vanished, and the bruise on the left side of his face began to fade. A grotesque popping noise came from his arm, and he winced.

"Damn!" he hissed.

"Sorry," Nanaki said. "The bone is resetting now." He cast the spell again, and the green light flashed over Reno, this time focusing on his arm. He flexed his fingers and rotated his shoulder.

"Thanks, Fido."

Nanaki growled, but ignored the jibe, shifting his attention to Rude. "You should carry cure materia with you," he said, casting the spell on the stoic Turk. The gash on his head healed, and the bruises peppering his neck and face slowly disappeared.

"Well! Sorr-y," Reno drawled. "It's not like we planned on getting our asses handed to us."

"What happened?" Tifa repeated for the third and hopefully final time.

"Shinra business," Rude grunted.

"This is hardly the time to be elusive," Vincent said. "I remind you that Shinra business is WRO business." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And WRO business is my business." His imposing posture and cutting tone reminded Tifa of something. The way he held his shoulders, and the way he drummed his fingers along his arm impatiently. For a moment her mind almost subconsciously began to connect dots that she hadn't known were there, and she felt as though she was staring at something that should be glaringly obvious in its nature, yet it escaped her.

Cloud stiffened and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes uneasy. Tifa could see the fine baby-blond hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "I feel funny," he muttered.

"Great. Nice to know." Reno tilted his head and watched Cloud. "We were in Nibelheim, checking out a few missing person reports."

"What did you find?" Tifa asked, ignoring Cloud's statement. She had a good idea of what was causing his agitation. He had the disturbing ability to sense whenever Sephiroth was near, and she was quite sure he had the feeling his enemy was close by.

"Monsters," Reno answered, his eyes shifting to Tifa. She shuddered under his gaze- he looked haunted, like he would give anything to reverse what he'd experienced in Nibelheim.

"There have always been monsters in and around Nibelheim." Vincent's voice was laced with irony.

Tifa's temper bristled at the suggestion. Whether he was referring to himself, Hojo, or Sephiroth... well, she could agree on Hojo being a monster, but that was about it. "You might want to work on your definition of monster, Vincent," she said to him.

Vincent shrugged. "You found monsters in Nibelheim. Did you find the missing people?"

"I think the monsters _are_ the missing people," Reno said. "They were... they looked like they used to be human. But whatever happened to them... "

"Extreme mako infusion," Vincent supplied. "Hojo's work, no doubt."

"Yeah... anyway, we checked the basement in that old mansion, and we were on our way up to the reactor when we got attacked. It was almost... almost like they were protecting something. We tried to get past them and they just went berserk. There were twenty of them, at least." Reno rubbed his mended arm.

"Hojo's in Nibelheim," Cloud said. "And Sephiroth..."

"Nibelheim," Tifa mused, not wanting Cloud to brood over and think about her friend. "That seems almost too obvious, doesn't it? I mean, if Hojo wants to stay a free man, why would he be in the first place we would look for him?"

"I was actually betting on him being in Deepground. There's still a lot of shit down there that we haven't cleaned up. Labs full of equipment, computers, other junk." Reno straightened the goggles perched precariously on his head. "But Nibelheim? You're right," he said to Tifa, "it's too obvious."

"The President informed us you were here." Rude stared at Cloud, or at least in his general direction. Tifa couldn't tell where the Turk's eyes actually rested as he spoke. "He requests your assistance with the situation."

"I'm going to call Reeve. We can't just run around blind, not keeping in touch with each other. If Hojo is in Nibelheim, we'll get him. But we need to work together," Cloud answered firmly. He'd taken on that calm, slightly cocky tone that Tifa knew so well from their time spent chasing Sephiroth. He was reverting to leader-mode. It was a welcome relief to see him take up the cause and begin to form plans. "You didn't see Sephiroth, did you?" he asked Rude gravely.

"No."

Cloud glanced at Reno, but the Turk shook his head. "Nope. Haven't heard a whisper about him. Not even a sighting since the reports from Bone Village."

Tifa pointedly ignored Vincent as he stared at her, his crimson eyes burning holes into the side of her heard. "He's got nothing to do with Hojo," she said. "At the moment."

Cloud scratched his head. "It's just... I don't like it. I feel like... like he's closer than I think. Like he's right behind me, and I just can't see him. And I think he does have something to do with Hojo. I think there's a connection there, Tifa. I know there is."

"What I don't get," Reno got to his feet and began to pace back and forth, "is how the hell Hojo is alive. I thought you took care of him," he said to Vincent. "I thought he was dead. Problem solved. Why the hell can't these people just stay dead?"

Tifa finally felt useful. This she could answer. She jumped in. "Jenova. Hojo is alive because he's fused his subconscious with Jenova. He can control Jenova cells in others' bodies. He used that ability to take over a... a host, I guess you would call it. So killing him won't do any good in the long run. It'll just postpone the problem."

"Listen to her," Reno commented to his partner. "Miss expert-on-the-subject. What did Sephiroth do, give you a lecture while he was dragging you around up north?"

"Shut up," Cloud said shortly. "Leave her alone."

"It's okay, Cloud." She touched his shoulder. "And no, he didn't give me a lecture, Reno. But he did share his opinion on the subject."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Cloud asked her, frowning. "Damn, Tifa, I just spent days going through research papers and reports and figures and..."

"Sorry," she said, holding up a hand to stop him midsentence, "but I had a lot on my plate."

"Got it all cleared up, though? Nice full stomach?" Reno asked. He was recovering his usual spritely attitude, much to Tifa's relief. She knew things had to be bad when Reno wasn't being a wiseass.

"You could say that," she said carefully, aware of Vincent's continual scrutiny.

"So what are we going to do?" Cloud asked her. "If killing Hojo won't do any good, what are we going to do?"

"We need to find a way to disperse him into the lifestream. How, I don't know," she answered, glad to steer the conversation away from Sephiroth. "Jenova is like a virus. If there are any traces of it left, Hojo can keep himself intact, even if we destroy the body he's in right now. He'll just infect another body."

"Sephiroth can do the same, can't he?" Cloud crossed his arms. "I wonder..."

"No. You wouldn't be capable of the same thing. There are only a minimal amount of Jenova cells in your body," Vincent said, finally freeing his eyes from Tifa to look at Cloud. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, being released from his searching stare.

"Why do I feel like I'm missing out on something?" Cloud asked, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced between Tifa and Vincent, his eyes taking on a suspicious gleam. "You two seem pretty well-informed about things."

Tifa opened her mouth, ready to lie, but the sound of footsteps coming from outside made her blood run cold. She felt as though she'd just been dunked in ice-water. He wouldn't... he was smarter than that... and hopefully, so was Genesis...

Cid Highwind burst into the room. "What the $#$#$ hell is going on! Nobody thought to wake me up?" His eyes went from Cloud, to Tifa, to the Turks, and he narrowed his eyes. "What are you two doing here?" There was no mistaking the distaste in his voice when he addressed Reno and Rude.

"Nice to see you too," Reno answered dryly.

"Where're your bodyguards, Tifa?" Cid asked, scanning the room. "Did they take off on ya? Cause a ruckus? I knew that ##$% lunatic was up to something. I knew it. No offense, kid, but I knew this was gonna happen."

"Cid," she warned, trying to convey to him that now would be a good time to shut up.

He ignored the verbal cue and the look in her eyes. "Goddamn, somebody better give me an explanation before I lose my shit. What did those ##$# ex-SOLDIERs get up to? What did they do? Are we going after them?"

"Cid," Vincent said sharply.

"What? Ex-SOLDIERs? Bodyguards? Lunatic? Cid, what are you talking about?" Cloud's voice took on a slightly panicked tone. He stepped toward the pilot, cornering him.

Cid finally clued in, but the damage had been done. Tifa put her head in her hands, too distressed to look at her childhood friend. "Uhh..." Cid stuttered, taking a step away from Cloud, pressing his back flat against the wooden door. He looked like a caged animal, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"I knew it," Cloud breathed. "Something's going on here. I knew it. Tifa..."

She could not look at him. As positive as she was that Sephiroth had become the least of their concerns, she could not deny the fact that she'd betrayed her childhood friend by forgiving the man that they'd hated together for so long. Hating Sephiroth had been common ground for them. Safe, stable, common ground. But now they couldn't even share that. Because she couldn't hate Sephiroth anymore. Not even for Cloud.

"Tifa, look at me, damn it."

She shook her head. Cloud cursed and kicked a nearby chair, busting the leg and sending the piece of furniture skittering across the floor.

"What's all this?" Reno demanded. "What about ex-SOLDIERs?"

Cid babbled something about being left out of the loop, unleashing a volley of unintelligible curses.

"Enough," Vincent said loudly, and everyone fell silent. Nobody breathed. Nobody in the room had ever heard Vincent Valentine raise his voice to that decibel before. "Cloud, Tifa has been through a very emotional ordeal this week. Show some compassion. She is your childhood friend, and you know she would never intentionally hurt you. Cid, you fool, don't blame us for not wanting to disturb your slumber."

"Who're you #$%#$ calling a fool?" Cid snapped.

"I can't believe you would hide something from me," Cloud muttered to her. "Tifa, you never hide things from me..."

"You're one to talk about hiding things," she answered waspishly, finally lowering her hands to glare at the blond man in front of her. "Don't you dare accuse me of not being forthcoming enough! You _never_ tell me what's going on in your life."

"Sephiroth." He uttered the name like it was a curse. "This is about Sephiroth. You know where he is, don't you?"

"Hold on," Reno butted in. "Just hold on. I have a question."

Tifa turned to him. "What?"

"Did you try calling me after we left your bar the other day?"

She shook her head, perplexed. "No. Why would I call you?"

"Well, _somebody_ called me from your cell phone." Reno scratched his head, pulled out his own cell phone, and flipped it open. He handed it to her. She looked down at the screen. Third from the top, he'd received a call from "Hot Bartender."

"Hot bartender?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Hey, don't feel bad. Rude's listed under 'Mr. Sunglasses,' and to be fair, you _are_ a hot bartender."

"Tifa, you'd better tell me what's going on," Cloud interrupted, sending the redhead a cutting glare. "I don't care about the Turks visiting you and I don't care who's been using your phone. I just want to know where Sephiroth is. Tell me."

She reflected on the fact that she'd developed the ability to not get drawn into an argument with him. Where had that come from? Usually she couldn't help but get involved where Cloud was concerned. She took every opportunity she could to talk to him. But right now she wanted nothing more than to shut him out, ignore him completely. The butterfly feeling she'd often gotten when talking to him was conspicuously absent. "Well," she said to Reno, "it wasn't me calling you. Why does it matter?"

She'd fallen into one of his frequently set-up traps. She could tell by the wicked gleam in his aqua eyes. "Just wondered if you'd finally seen the light, honey. I thought maybe you were finally taking me up on that dinner and a movie offer."

"Tifa doesn't like it when you call her honey, Turk."

Tifa flinched. She didn't have to turn around to know who was standing behind her. She recognized that grandiose voice. "Genesis," she said.

"Good morning to you," he answered courteously.

Cloud threw an arm around Tifa and yanked her away from Genesis rather roughly, drawing his sword and planting his feet firmly on the ground, ready to lunge. "Who are you?"

"I seemed to have overslept. Though the morrow..."

Tifa took a leaf out of Sephiroth's book and cut the man's recitation short. "Genesis, now really isn't a good time to recite poetry," she said, facing him. He looked rumpled and warm, like he'd just woken from a nap in the sun. He shrugged his broad shoulders and drew his own sword, nodding at Cloud.

"I wouldn't do that," he said idly. "Really, Cloud, you never officially made it into SOLDIER. What chance do you have against me?"

"Genesis? Genesis Rhapsodos?" Cloud asked, narrowing his eyes. His hands tightened their grip on his sword.

"Genesis Rhapsodos," Reno said. He didn't bother masking his amazement. "You're alive."

"Well-spotted." Genesis kept his eyes glued to Cloud. "Go on, pup. Show me your best."

Tifa placed herself firmly between the two men, giving them both warning glares. "Put those away," she said. "Please."

"You knew about him." Cloud directed the statement at Vincent. His eyes flickered to the unsurprised Cid and Nanaki. "All of you knew? And nobody thought to tell _me_? What else do I not know about?"

"Oh boy," Cid muttered, scratching his head.

"I didn't know," Reno offered.

"Neither did I," Rude added.

"Great. I've been relegated to the same level as the Turks," Cloud muttered. "And who are you calling a pup?" he asked Genesis.

"If you possessed an ounce of intelligence, you would notice that your companions do not see me as a threat. Therefore, neither should you. Unless, of course, you don't trust your friends."

"Genesis, can you... be quiet, for a minute?" Tifa asked. She had a feeling she was asking a bit too much from him- he liked to talk, enjoyed having everyone's attention. And she hardly expected him to bow to her demands the way Sephiroth did, but she didn't need him purposefully riling Cloud up when she was trying to keep her childhood friend calm.

"You're getting as bad as yon General," he answered with a lopsided grin. "Ordering me around, telling me to shut up. By the way, Reno, I would truly advise against flirting with Tifa. It may end badly for you."

Tifa groaned. She hadn't expected him to heed her. But she hadn't expected him to make things worse, either. "Genesis..."

"The proverbial cat is out of the bag, so frankly I see no reason to continue this little charade. He will find out eventually, Tifa. That is why we are here. And seeing as how it's 3:30 AM, we may as well get an early start. Go ahead. Tell him." Genesis lowered his sword, clearly judging Cloud to be a very minor threat.

"Tell me," Cloud agreed. Unlike Genesis, he kept his sword raised.

Tifa buried her head in her hands once more. She'd been preparing for this moment since Vincent had called Cid in Edge and requested that he bring them here, and yet she had no idea where to begin. She had no idea what to say. Her cheeks burned against her palms, and she knew a bright pink blush had crept into her face. "I hate you," she muttered into her hands. "Genesis, I really hate you right now."

As if on cue, Vincent and Nanaki stood behind Cloud. To him it might have looked like a show of support. Tifa knew better. They were preparing to stop him, lest he decide to attack Genesis or even Tifa herself. "Okay," she muttered, taking a shaky breath and releasing it slowly. "Here it goes. Cloud... after you left Edge, I got a visitor."

"Visitor?"

"Sephiroth."

Cloud lowered his sword, not because he'd decided Genesis meant no harm, but out of shock. The tension in the air was suffocating. "He... he was in our apartment?"

"Yeah. He... came to check up on me, I guess. To make sure I was safe."

"No way." Cloud waved a finger at her. "Tifa, Sephiroth wouldn't care if you were safe or not. Is that what he said? He was just checking up on you?"

"That's what he said," Tifa agreed. Unconsciously she began to pace back and forth. She stopped in front of Genesis and searched his face, unsure what she was looking for. Support, maybe. Reassurance that she could get through this, that she wouldn't have a meltdown by the end of it.

Genesis reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Go on."

She continued pacing. "It's crazy, and I know that. I know what it looks like, I know how it sounds... but Cloud, Sephiroth had good intentions when he showed up in Edge. He just wanted to talk. And he did talk. _We _talked. About what he did, and why. And I... I liked talking to Sephiroth. He's really not what you would expect. He's... he's a human being, deep down. Oh, he's a bit unstable," she said quickly, when Cloud opened his mouth to argue, "mentally. But he has a heart. A good heart. We've become really close, Cloud. Sephiroth and I... we're friends. I trust him. I won't ever forget what he did, but I do forgive him. I'm not asking you to do the same. I'm just asking you to trust me. Trust my judgement, Cloud. I know I'm asking too much. But you have to trust me."

Cloud stared at her. Reno and Rude stared at her. Vincent, Cid, and Nanaki stared at her as well. Genesis clapped his hands together, breaking the utter silence that had descended on all of them. "What a wonderful speech," he said. "Very moving."

"Friends." Cloud's eyebrows went up. "Friends, Tifa. You're _friends_ with Sephiroth." His voice took on a slightly hysterical tone that put her even more on edge. He raked a hand through his wild, unkempt hair. "Sephiroth doesn't have friends."

"I beg to differ," Genesis said coolly. "Sephiroth has at least two friends in this room. Possibly three." His eyes moved to Vincent before returning to Cloud.

"He destroyed our home, Tifa. He killed your father, he killed my mother, he almost killed you..."

"I told you I haven't forgotten what he's done," she interrupted. "But Cloud... he wasn't himself when he did those things."

"Don't tell me he didn't know what he was doing! He knew exactly what..."

"He _did_ know what he was doing. I'm not saying he didn't. But you knew what you were doing when you handed Sephiroth the Black Materia, didn't you?"

He turned away from her, disgust written across his face. "Jesus, Tifa. He was manipulating me. And now he's manipulating you. Don't you see?"

"He is _not_ manipulating me." It came out harsher than she meant, but the accusation riled Tifa more than she cared to admit. She wasn't sure what bothered her more- the suggestion that Sephiroth was up to no good, or the suggestion that she'd fallen into a trap. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then decided it would be more prudent to defend her actions than Sephiroth's. "I'm not an idiot, Cloud. It's not like he snapped his fingers and suddenly I forgave him. It's not like that at all. I've questioned my sanity more in the past week or so than I have all my life. I _looked_ for reasons to hate him. I tried really hard not to believe him. I kept telling myself he_ was_ manipulating me, he _was_ using me, he _was_ lying to me. But it got to a point where I was lying to myself, trying to convince myself that he was the same monster that burned my hometown to the ground, that killed my father, that cut me open."

Cloud opened his mouth, but she continued, ignoring his protest.

"It didn't happen overnight. I didn't forgive him on the spot. But he saved my life, twice. He kept me alive. If it wasn't for Sephiroth, I would either be dead... or worse than dead. And besides all that..." she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face, "he's actually pretty likeable."

"You're out of your mind," Cloud said. He sounded too calm, given the situation. Tifa began to mentally prepare herself for the meltdown she knew he was about to have. "He's here, isn't he? He's somewhere in Cosmo Canyon." He raised his sword, his mako eyes swirling with hate and an almost eager anticipation.

She held her ground.

"Move."

She shook her head." No."

"Tifa. Move."

"No."

"Get out of my way!"

Tifa didn't move. Cloud stared at her stubbornly, and she stared back at him, feeling oddly trapped in his vivid blue eyes. His gaze shifted to somewhere over her shoulder, and he jerked back, those swirling mako eyes widening with recognition and shock. She didn't have to turn around to know who had just stepped into the room. She could feel the subtle shift in the air that announced his presence, could smell metal and smoke, something else...

"Cloud."

His voice still sent a shiver up her spine.


	12. Sheltered

**A/N: Ughh, Cloud. Just shut up. Idiot. **

**Burst of productivity was short-lived. I have reverted to slogging. My apologies for being a turtle. Normally I write much faster, however I'm being very... ahh, shall we say nitpicky, with this fic. It's the miro-writing. I can't help myself. A side-order of plot-spoiling: there will be a freak-out. A large freak-out. Involving FIRE! Because fire makes **_**everything**_** more badass, obviously.**

**Thank you for the lovely feedback! Points to Seonaid Mist, who apparently can read my mind. **

**0_o**

**It is long past time for Sephiroth's perspective.**

* * *

**Chapter #12**

**Sheltered**

Sephiroth was unsure of what he ought to feel in those first few seconds that he looked at the young man he had loathed with his entire being for the past... two years? Three? How had his concept of time gotten so warped? Regardless, he didn't know how to react. He had nothing to guide himself with. He couldn't trust his instinct to hate Cloud Strife, because he knew what that particular instinct would lead him to. That instinct was evil. That instinct told him to hate, to destroy, to conquer. He was strong, and those around him were weak.

But between himself and his enemy stood his single reminder that he was no longer ruled by hatred. He didn't have to answer its sweet siren song. He didn't even have to acknowledge it. He was an intelligent man. He needn't resort to simple solutions. And Sephiroth had found hatred to be the simplest, the easiest answer. He suspected Tifa knew that as well.

"Cloud," he said.

Cloud Strife flinched.

Tifa did not. "We were just talking about you," she said, turning around, greeting him with one of her brilliant, beautiful smiles. She held herself well despite the stress she must be experiencing. Still, he saw the tension in her body, in the way she stood. Her hands were balled into fists and the sinewy muscles on her arms were tensed, ready for a fight.

He wondered who she would side with if it came down to that.

"What did you do to her?" Cloud Strife whispered. He took one step forward. Tifa didn't move an inch. She kept her back to her childhood friend, and Sephiroth realized it was because she didn't want Cloud to see the amused smile that flickered across her face. But there it was- she found the idea of being hurt by him silly. He couldn't stop the answering smile that tugged at his mouth.

Tifa straightened her face to a more serious expression and half-turned to address Cloud. "Please trust me," she said softly.

Had she used that tone with _him_, Sephiroth would have given in to her without question. He trusted her already. He would trust her with his life, and it was a strange feeling, to trust somebody so completely. He thought it ought to make him feel vulnerable. Instead he felt secure.

"I do trust you, Tifa. It's just that I know he's done something to you. He's confused you, somehow-"

"And I suppose I've confused Vincent as well?" Sephiroth pointed at the solemn ex-Turk. "And Cid Highwind?" He pointed at the pilot. "And Nanaki?" He pointed at the flame-furred creature. "And on that note, I suppose Genesis has confused your friends as well. Yes, there is certainly a great deal of confusion going around. I didn't know you thought so low of your companions, Cloud." Satisfied that he'd illustrated a very valid point, he folded his arms across his chest and watched the blond man's reaction.

"Holy shit."

Sephiroth glanced at two strangers sitting on a sofa that he'd previously overlooked, distracted as he was by Cloud and Tifa. The two men were wearing identical blue suits, though the manner in which they were wearing their clothes was drastically different. One was bald and wore dark sunglasses. The other was a redhead with goggles perched precariously on his head. It was the redhead who'd spoken. His aqua eyes moved from Sephiroth to Tifa.

"Holy shit," he reiterated. "Sephiroth. Holy-"

"Shit," Cid Highwind snapped. "We got it, Turk."

Of course. The Turks. Sephiroth felt absolutely no reaction to them. To say he'd never respected the Turks would be a lie. When he had been with Shinra, the Turks had the reputation of being the most dedicated team the company had. They would get the job done when others couldn't. No matter how difficult the task, the Turks always came out on top. He respected their loyalty. But they were also known for being underhanded in how they went about business. Lies, bribes, assassinations. Things a SOLDIER would never do. They had no honour.

"Well... goddamn, Tifa. You didn't mention any of this when the President asked you to tell him everything," the redheaded Turk said finally.

"Well I don't have to answer to the _President_, Reno," Tifa answered in a clipped tone.

Reno the Turk. Sephiroth disliked him immediately, based solely on his previous flirtations with Tifa. "I don't believe Shinra has any business with me," he said. "Except perhaps to cut me a check for my last mission as a SOLDIER."

"Well...you were... I mean..." the Turk sputtered, "come on."

Cloud Strife took another step forward, raising his sword. "I'll end this now," he said quietly. "You aren't going to hurt anyone else. I won't let you."

Sephiroth felt his hand go automatically to the handle of his sword. He didn't want to fight. He was tired of violence. But if Cloud pushed him far enough, he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself, perhaps even subdue the younger man. Tifa might hate him if he did that. He didn't want her to hate him. He wanted only to make her smile, to put happiness in her beautiful mahogany eyes. "I don't intend on hurting anybody," he said, holding off on drawing his blade for the time being.

Cloud took yet another step forward. He was now inches away from Tifa, and the woman still held her ground. Taking in her firm, unwavering stance, Sephiroth began to appreciate her on an entirely new level. Her show of loyalty touched him, warmed that part of him that he'd only recently begun to acknowledge.

"Move, Tifa." Cloud's voice was cold and cutting.

"No." She grabbed his wrist. "Cloud, please. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please."

"What about the people already hurt? What about your father? My mother? What about Zack? What about Aerith?"

The Ancient's name rattled around in Sephiroth's mind like a curse. That last, unforgivable act. The despicable evil, the slaughter of an innocent girl who only wanted to help. Did he have the right to stand here, to live and breathe and have those little moments of ecstatic joy when Tifa touched him and talked to him, rested her head on his shoulder and asked him how he felt, how he was doing? No, in short. He hadn't the right to anything. He should never have gone to Edge. He should have left it all well enough alone. He should have let the world forget about him.

"I think," Nanaki spoke up suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, "that Aerith would not have held Sephiroth's past actions against him, given his effort to reverse the damage he's done."

"I know that Zack wouldn't," Genesis added.

"There is no greater punishment than guilt," Vincent said gravely. "As many here know quite well." His eyes fell first on the two Turks, then on Cloud, then Tifa, and finally resting on Sephiroth. "For all that we can forgive each other, it is forgiving ourselves that we struggle with. I wish to know who in this room has never taken a life to further their personal cause."

Cloud Strife shifted and for the first time, his gaze left Sephiroth and went to the floor.

"I wish to know who here has never retaliated when they felt they'd been treated unjustly."

Tifa turned to watch Vincent, the tension leaving her body, her hands uncurling. She flexed her fingers, seemingly unaware of the movement.

"Who here," Vincent continued, his voice growing impatient now, "can tell me they wouldn't change one thing about their past if they could? Can anyone truly tell me they have no regrets?" When nobody answered, a sardonic little smile briefly touched his mouth. "Of course not. We are human. This is our condition. So Cloud," he turned to the blond man, "before you attempt to exact revenge on behalf of those people Sephiroth has hurt, I ask you this. What good will come out of it? Do you think killing him will absolve you of your sins? Do you think it will end the guilt that claws at you with every waking hour, and haunts you in your dreams?"

Sephiroth closed his eyes, blocking out the scene unfolding in front of him. He felt sick, terribly, dreadfully sick, and now was not the time to feel the vile black vomit rising in his throat. He did not want Cloud Strife to see him weak and shaking, did not want anyone to see him that way. His stomach began to tingle, and the sensation was all too familiar. The tingling grew, turned into a burning feeling that started in his stomach and began to spread throughout his entire body, and he doubled over, hands automatically clutching his middle. He opened his eyes to find the world had shifted out of focus; he could no longer make out any of the faces that now watched him.

A hand on his shoulder, a small, warm hand. "Come on, follow me. This way."

He recognized the voice, sweet and soft, and above all else, touchingly concerned. He let Tifa lead him wherever she wanted. He heard the door slam shut behind them. She applied gently pressure on both of his shoulders, urging him to sink down to his knees- he did so without question, knowing somehow that she knew what to do. She would see to him... Her hands tugged at his hair as she gathered the substantial locks and pulled them away from his face. "Go on," Tifa said gently. "It's okay, we're alone now."

He let the sickness engulf him. Vomited heavily- he could hear the sickly splash of it hitting ceramic. He realized he was crouched over a toilet. He grabbed the rim with his hands and retched again. Everything burned. His fingers, his toes, his ears. His mouth felt scorched. Like he'd swallowed acid. More vomit, more than he'd ever retched up before, and he acknowledged to himself that it was getting worse. Whatever it was.

Tifa rubbed his back. The physical contact soothed the burning sensation, made it fade slightly in intensity. She rested one hand against his forehead, and it felt wonderfully cool against his flushed face. "It's okay," she murmured, and though he knew it wasn't okay, her words relieved him. "I'm here," she added softly. "It's okay."

Sephiroth heard a low groan of pain. It took him a moment to realize the noise came from him. Pathetic. Weak. What must she think of him?

A loud banging noise came from behind him.

"Tifa! Open the door!"

He shook his head and straightened as the burning receded into unpleasant memory. His vision came back, and he turned his head to meet Tifa's mahogany gaze. "Sorry."

Tifa shook her head. "No, don't apologize. You're not well," she whispered, scooting closer and resting her arm across his shoulders. H realized he was trembling slightly, and tried to halt the involuntary movement.

"Tifa!"

"Give us a minute, Cloud," she said calmly.

"I am fine," Sephiroth muttered. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he crashed onto the floor, Tifa trying vainly to support him. He rested his forehead against her round little shoulder.

"Sure you are," she murmured, combing her fingers through his hair. She reached up and grabbed a roll of toilet tissue, tearing off a square and lifting his head with one hand under his chin. She wiped at his mouth gently, wiped the sticky black mess from his chin.

"Tifa, I'll break this damn door down!"

"Shut up, Cloud!" Tifa seemed to have reached the end of her patience with Cloud Strife. It made Sephiroth smile, despite how wretched he felt.

Cloud broke the door down anyway. It slammed back against the wall and he stepped in to survey the scene. "What is that?" he asked, staring at the contents of the toiled.

Sephiroth reached up and grabbed the flusher, yanking it down, sending the vile substance swirling into the toilet. "I cannot even hazard a guess," he said, forcing his voice to sound calm and unwavering. He would not show weakness to Cloud Strife. He would not. He stood up once more, not falling this time, but only because Tifa held him up, her hand tucked firmly under his arm. He allowed himself to lean on her slightly. He'd never felt this wretched before. Never.

It was getting worse. He was getting sicker, and he didn't know why.

Cloud had lowered his sword, the first sign that he might actually take the time to discover exactly what the situation was. A step in the right direction, miniscule as it was. "You look like death," he commented quietly. Behind him, Genesis craned his neck to get a glimpse of Sephiroth. His mako eyes were concerned. Vincent too appeared worried. An odd feeling rose up inside him, and he struggled to identify it.

_Cared for_, a voice in the back of his head supplied for him.

How strange.

He turned from Cloud and Tifa to glance at himself in the mirror above the sink. His face was completely colorless, white as a sheet, with a thin, filmy layer of sweat clinging to his forehead and cheeks. His eyes jumped out at him, yet they were oddly glazed-over. "I might ask for a moment of privacy."

Tifa nodded, unfazed by the harshness in his voice, and steered a confused Cloud out of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. He heard raised voices in the other room, but blocked them out as he stared at himself. He turned the tap on, running his hands under the wonderfully icy water, and splashed his face.

_You are falling apart._

Would he die? Would this illness get progressively worse until it killed him? His mind rebelled against that thought. He didn't want to die. Not yet. Not now. He wanted more time. More of those little moments with Tifa Lockhart. He wanted to be by her side, always. To never be away from her... he didn't deserve that sort of happiness. He didn't deserve any happiness. He deserved this misery.

Sephiroth grabbed the hand towel hanging on a nearby rack and scrubbed his face dry.

_There is no greater punishment than guilt._

How well he knew. He composed himself quickly and efficiently, then stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face the accusations and hatred and mistrust once more.

Cloud Strife studied him intently. The blank outrage had faded from his electric blue eyes, and he'd put his sword away. Two steps in the right direction. "You deserve it," he said quietly. "Do you know what it feels like? Geostigma?"

Sephiroth shook his head.

"It's horrible. Your body starts to eat itself up. Like it doesn't want you to live anymore." Cloud's eyes grew distant, perhaps recalling the illness and its effects on him. "I don't know how the children survived. Most of them didn't. But Denzel... some of the others... they lived through it. It's amazing the strength you can find in yourself."

"For what the words are worth... I am sorry."

Cloud jerked his head back involuntarily. He clearly had not expected to hear those words. Whatever their worth was, he hadn't expected them. "Would you give your life to take it all back?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah." Cloud scratched his head. "Of course I would."

"I don't know," Reno the Turk spoke up suddenly. "I kind of figured things would be worse than they are now if Meteor hadn't happened." At the look everyone in the room, including his fellow Turk, gave him, he defended his words. "Well, think about it. There's no way Avalanche would have stopped Shinra. We'd still be bleeding the planet dry. Old man Shinra would still be going about his business. Rufus Shinra would still be... I mean, think about what your lives would be like if Nibelheim hadn't been destroyed. You'd still be a Shinra grunt," he said to Cloud. "Tifa would probably be a fat housewife raising a couple screaming brats in her hometown."

"That's very insightful," Nanaki said.

Reno shrugged. "Seems obvious to me."

Sephiroth could not imagine Tifa being a housewife. He certainly could not imagine her being fat. He allowed himself to take in her perfectly proportioned figure- the trim waist, the lovely curves of her hips, the long, lean legs, the ample bosom...

Genesis elbowed him in the ribs. "Now's hardly the time," he whispered.

Sephiroth bristled. "Mind your own business."

"Excuse me," Tifa said, resting her hands on the curvy hips he'd just been admiring. "I think I'd raise my children to be a bit better than screaming brats."

Reno threw his hands up and smirked. "Hey, I'm not passing judgement on your parenting skills. I just don't like kids."

"Liar," his partner grunted.

Cloud let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I just... it's... Tifa," he moaned, burying his face in his hands.

She grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face to look him in the eye. "You don't have to let go of her death, Cloud. It was a sin that should never be forgotten. Never forget that she died for no reason. But like Vincent said, what good will come out of you killing him? Hatred only breeds more hatred. You know that."

"I would never ask your forgiveness. I did not ask for Tifa to forgive me, and I will not ask for you to forgive me. I am under no illusions, Cloud." He saw the blond man shiver at the word. Illusion. Cloud Strife knew about illusions. "I know what I did. It was conscious. It was deliberate. I ask that none of you forget that. My actions cannot be dismissed as simple insanity." He paused, his eyes resting on Tifa. "I offer you my help in resolving the situation at hand."

Cloud shook his head. He appeared about to refuse the offer, but stopped before he even began to speak. His mako-infused eyes moved from Tifa to Sephiroth. Something had clearly just occurred to him, perhaps a new angle from which to look at the situation. "Why did you let her go?"

The question surprised Sephiroth. And he wasn't easily surprised. "What else was I to do with her?"

Cloud shrugged. "Skewer her?"

"Oh, that's nice." Tifa's hands went back to her ample hips and she frowned at both of them.

Sephiroth couldn't help himself- he smirked at her. "The thought did cross my mind. Unfortunately I happen to be rather fond of Tifa. Skewering her seemed a poor way to end things."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Cloud answered quietly, his hand reaching for the handle of his ridiculously large sword.

"I have none."

His hand dropped to his side once more.

"Well I hate to crash the party," Reno said in the tense silence, "but we have to be going. Call the President," he added to Cloud, getting to his feet. "Once you all get this mess untangled."

The bald Turk stood as well and nodded curtly. Sephiroth saw his eyes flicker to Tifa and his stoic expression soften by the faintest degree. Obviously there was something there. It fuelled a burst of jealousy in him, that another man would look at her like that. But then, what man wouldn't? She was a fine woman, beautiful and kind. She was probably quite accustomed to male admiration.

"That's it? You're leaving?" Tifa's dark eyebrows rose and she regarded Reno with clear suspicion.

"I know, babe. I wish I could stick around, but we've got work to do."

That did it for him. "Turk," he spat, unable and unwilling to stop the irate tone his voice had taken on.

Tifa grabbed his arm and gave him a warning look, then glared at Reno. "Go on, then. Go take care of your Shinra business."

Reno smirked at Sephiroth. "You too, eh? Watch out for her, she's a ball-buster."

"Really now, do you have a death wish?" Genesis asked in amazement.

The lanky Turk shrugged and made his departure, that smug little smile still plastered to his face. His partner followed him wordlessly. The atmosphere seemed to become considerably less tense; Nanaki, Vincent, and Cid visibly relaxed. Tifa remained on her guard, though. Sephiroth wanted to take the tension from her little frame. He wanted to make her smile again. He was more than slightly embarrassed about that little outburst, and wished desperately that he could wipe the knowing little smirk off of Genesis's face.

"Ughh." Cloud sank down on the sofa that the Turks had vacated. "I don't know what freaks me out more. The idea that you're being honest, or the idea that you're lying," he said tiredly, his eyes meeting Sephiroth's. "I mean, you could have killed Tifa... You had the chance to fight me in the Forgotten City. You could have killed Cid and Vincent..." he trailed off and groaned yet again.

Would he break down now? He seemed dangerously close to being pushed over the edge. Sephiroth didn't trust the quiet frustration that seemed to grip the young man. He almost preferred the blind anger. Anger he could understand. He could relate to that vengeful fury; though he understood the sullen confusion as well. "I don't want to kill anyone," he said firmly. "I wish to end violence, not propagate it."

Cloud rubbed his face and gripped his wild blond hair in his fists, staring at the floor. "I just... ughh... what can I do? Aerith... my hometown... my life..." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hands tugging at his hair.

Vincent tapped Cid on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

"Think so?" The pilot looked dubious.

Vincent nodded. "We will give you some privacy. This is between you and Sephiroth, Cloud. Is that alright with you?"

"Uhhgh."

Nanaki nudged Cloud's knee before making his exit, followed by Vincent and Cid. Genesis glanced at the young man with a mixture of concern and vague uncertainty before nodding at Sephiroth.

"I suppose you'll manage."

"Go on," Sephiroth muttered, jerking his head towards the door. His friend left, leaving him alone with Cloud and Tifa. He didn't know what to do. He had a feeling that speaking would only aggravate Cloud further. But the eerie silence was beginning to grate on him. He wanted one of them to say something. Anything.

Tifa stared down at Cloud, her cinnamon eyes concerned. She shuffled her feet uncertainly before joining him on the sofa. "Cloud, listen to me. Imagine if Sephiroth had left me to Hojo and his experiments. I would be worse than dead. And if I had escaped, I would have frozen to death. Did I tell you I almost drowned? I was stomping around like an idiot, and I fell through some ice. He pulled me out of the water. He even gave me the clothes off his back so I wouldn't catch hypothermia. Cloud... you would have lost your best friend. I'm not saying one life is worth another... I can't make any judgements on how much a person is worth." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "He deserves the chance to help, at least. Don't you think, Cloud?"

"I don't know what to think."

Sephiroth empathised with the perpetually-confused young man. He knew how that felt. Wanting to hate somebody, but unable to. Having firm ground ripped out from under your feet. Every preconception, everything you'd taken as fact, blown to pieces. But what else could he say? Cloud knew about regret. He certainly knew about guilt. They weren't that different, the two of them. Identity crisis, mental breakdown. Science experiments. A thirst for validation.

"You wanted to be like me."

Cloud lifted his head to look at Sephiroth warily.

"Don't be. Let it go. Hatred will only drive you to hurt innocent people. If you kill me, you will hurt Tifa. You will hurt Genesis. He would retaliate and attempt to kill you. Do you see, Cloud? This is an opportunity to break the cycle of violence I started in Nibelheim."

"I need some air," Cloud said. "I... I just... You killed her. For no reason! For no goddamn reason!"

Tifa flinched. Sephiroth saw pain in her eyes. There was a grave injury there. He wanted to comfort her and enquire, but now was not the time for that. Later, he told himself firmly. He would pursue that later. Clearly something about the murdered flower girl grated on Tifa. Not just her death. Something concerning her death, an aftershock that rattled the martial artist. An old, unhealed wound.

"I know," he said.

Cloud sucked in a breath of air and shuddered. "What am I supposed to do? I can't... I just can't... even... look at you. I want to kill you. I want to hurt you. The way you hurt me."

Sephiroth doubted the boy could actually hurt him, not in a fair fight. But then... his eyes rested on Tifa. There were other ways to hurt a person. He remembered the ache in his chest when he'd let Tifa Lockhart go. Unconsciously he shivered, and Tifa gave him a concerned look. He shrugged dismissively. She needn't worry about him. He didn't want her to worry about him. He didn't want her to worry about anything. "I cannot blame you for that."

"I can't trust you."

"I know."

Cloud lifted his head and stared at Sephiroth once more. He had the peculiar feeling that the younger man had never truly seen him before now, that this was his first glimpse of the famous (now former) SOLDIER that he'd admired throughout his adolescence. "Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

Cloud nodded, pointing at a chair across from him. "Start with Nibelheim. No..." He frowned, raking his blond hair back, away from his face. "Start with... the end of the war in Wutai. Tell me your story. Tell me about your memories. Your past."

Of all the requests to issue. He settled into the chair with some difficulty- his frame was slightly too large for the piece of furniture, and it issued a groan under his weight. His past. His memories. Intimate, personal. He saw the apprehension and excitement in Tifa's eyes, and the concern.

"The war," he said quietly. "Shinra began as a weapons manufacturing company. Only after the technological advancements made to draw mako energy out of the earth and convert it into electricity, did Shinra become a power company. Before that, it manufactured weapons..."


	13. Note

**Author's Note**

Due to circumstances beyond my control (lol) I am officially placing this story on hiatus. I am relocating across the country, and need time to find a job and my own place to live. Obviously I cannot be writing fanfiction with such upheaval in my life, but I want to assure you that I will return to this story. In the meantime, I hope you have enjoyed what has been posted thus far. My deepest apologies for doing this, but real life calls and unfortunately (very unfortunately...) I must answer.

Peace,

Marie


	14. Breakfast

**A/N: You will notice that there is no chapter #13 in this story. Call me superstitious... Anyhow I am back from my hiatus and ready to roll. Thank you to all who left feedback. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic.**

**Peace**

* * *

**Chapter #14**

**Breakfast**

Cloud looked like he really regretted asking Sephiroth to tell him _everything_. Tifa certainly did. Everything meant four hours of the ex-SOLDIER growing increasingly irritated and uncomfortable. Cloud, who really didn't know Sephiroth at all, was completely oblivious to the man's discomfort, but Tifa knew him well enough now to see his distress as he talked about waking up in Hojo's lab in Icicle. From his camaraderie with Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley to the wonders of the lifestream and the knowledge he had absorbed from it- Sephiroth talked about it all. And more. Tifa didn't know what to think. He'd summed up his entire adult life, and it wasn't much. His life consisted of being in SOLDIER. And being lost in the lifestream. That pretty much covered everything. And the whole attempting to destroy the planet thing.

"I did not want to get involved with Hojo or with Shinra. I despise that fool. Scientist," Sephiroth spat out bitterly. "Father or not, the man is a second-rate quack." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I thought it would be best for me to disappear," he finished quietly. "But I was concerned for Tifa. And so I paid her a visit. Genesis got involved... and here we are."

"Here we are," Cloud echoed. He'd listened attentively, absorbed in Sephiroth's tale, and now he slumped back into the sofa and turned to Tifa. "Here we are."

She rubbed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "I'm hungry. What about you?" she asked her childhood friend. Breakfast sounded like a wonderful idea. She wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to ask Sephiroth if he was hungry. As of yet all she'd seen him eat was one measly apple. And only because Genesis requested it. She wasn't sure if he even_ needed_ to eat. Or maybe he did it in secret. Who knew?

"Starving," Cloud admitted, studying Sephiroth with unnerving intensity.

Tifa got to her feet and made for the bathroom. She half-turned, hand on the doorknob, and addressed the two men. "Don't do anything crazy. I just need to freshen up." She meant it to be funny, but Cloud gave her a haunted look. Sephiroth, though, managed a small smile. She smiled back at him and went into the bathroom to examine herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale and drawn. Stress and lack of sleep always did terrible things to her looks. A splash of cold water and a quick combing of her hair had her feeling almost human- coffee and food would do wonders.

Maybe she shouldn't have used the word crazy. Considering both men had been just that at some point in their respective lives. Cloud and his identity crisis. Sephiroth and his total lunacy. Tifa stepped back into the room and regarded the two men. "Could you give us a minute, Cloud?"

He shook his head, his haunted mako eyes fixing on her. "I'm not leaving you alone with him."

That statement seemed to push Sephiroth to his limit. "I have succumbed to your demands for the past four hours, boy. I have reached the end of my patience. I will not tolerate you insinuating that I would ever hurt her, in any way." His voice had taken on that icy tone he used to use with her.

"Hey," she said, alarmed by the sudden anger. "Come on, guys. No fighting. Please... you're both handling this really well. Cloud, please. Just give us one minute, okay?"

He scratched his head, his eyes taking on that stubborn gleam she knew all too well. He was going to hold his ground. "Tifa..."

She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, giving him her best intimidating woman look. To her amazement, it worked; he got to his feet with a sigh, shooting Sephiroth a reproachful glare, as though the man was fully responsible for Tifa's stubborn demand to have a private moment with him. "Fine," Cloud muttered. "I'll be right outside. You hurt a hair on her head..."

Sephiroth's expression became one of murderous irritation.

"All right!" Cloud threw his hands up. "Jeez... How do you deal with his temper, Tifa?"

"I'm used to temperamental ex-SOLDIERs," she said lightly. "You could say they're my specialty."

Cloud shook his head. It seemed he just could not bring himself to find any humour whatsoever in the situation, which Tifa thought was unfortunate. If you couldn't laugh at the insanity of life, you were bound to eventually snap under the pressure of it all. At least, that's how she'd always looked at it. Cloud stepped out of the room, not before throwing Sephiroth a parting scowl of warning. Tifa immediately relaxed. She hadn't expected it to go so smoothly between the two of them. Not even a punch had been thrown.

Yet.

Sephiroth let out a heavy sigh, and she turned her attention back to her friend. "You okay?" she asked him softly.

"Yes."

He said it too quickly. Tifa knelt down in front of him and took one of his large hands in hers. She studied their hands, palms pressed together; his fingers were very long, almost delicate. He would make an amazing pianist. "You ever play the piano?" she asked.

"No. My mother played," he said softly, his eyes on their hands. Slowly he lifted his gaze to stare at her. "You play."

She shrugged. "It's been years. My mom taught me how to play. Once she died... I stopped learning. I just played what I knew. Eventually I lost the heart for it, I guess."

He tilted his head and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I see. You associate playing piano with your mother, and you no longer have her in your life. But Tifa, don't you think you might be doing your mother's memory a disservice by neglecting something she wanted you to do?"

Something about the thoughtful and heartfelt response dealt out in his cool, logical tone, coupled with the tender gesture of tucking her hair back, made Tifa grin. "I guess... you have a point," she conceded.

His answering smile brought butterflies to her stomach. She liked the way it lit up his eyes- he had such beautiful eyes.

_Oh... don't start that..._

"Perhaps you can teach me how to play," he added softly. "I have no creative endeavours in my life. It might be therapeutic for me."

She realized he was making a stab at lightening the mood, and mentally gave him points for the effort. "I think it'll take more than some piano lessons to improve your mental health," she said with a grin.

He shrugged his burly shoulders and smiled back at her, that smile she found oddly charming. The novelty of it still hadn't worn off. It probably never would, she reflected. His smile made her feel like a fourteen-year old girl running to check the newspapers, the latest update on the famous war hero.

"You're concerned," he said. "Don't be. I'm fine."

She smiled, recognizing what he was trying to do. Deflect. He didn't want her worrying about him. She blurted out the question that had been lurking in the back of her mind sine her little discussion with Genesis yesterday. "You're sick, aren't you?"

Again he shrugged dismissively. "I am fine, Tifa. Really, you needn't concern yourself with my well-being."

Tifa mimicked his casual movement, shrugging her own shoulders. "You handled that really well."

He tilted his head, amused. "I suppose you expected another massacre."

"No, of course I didn't. I trust you. I know you're not a bad person." She sat on the arm of the chair he was occupying, settling her legs in his lap. He raised his eyes to meet hers. Tifa realized with a rather sudden jolt that they were very close now, physically- his face was inches from her own. She could smell him. He smelled like smoke and metal.

Did he really believe her opinion of him was that low?

His own opinion of her, she couldn't begin to guess at. She hadn't missed the subtle up-and-down eye movements he'd directed at her earlier. She thought at first she'd imagined it. But no. He was checking her out. She knew that action all too well. She'd been given that look too many times to count. Part of her dismissed it as yet another man simply admiring her figure. Another part of her, a quiet, unassuming, whispering part of her, suggested otherwise.

She smiled and sank into his lap, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair. They had a baffling relationship, to be sure.

_Do you love him? _

Genesis. The devil's advocate. She couldn't answer that question without raising a host of others. What kind of love? Where did love come from, anyway? She enjoyed his company, even more than she enjoyed Cloud's company. Being alone with him now, she realized there really was no place she'd rather be. But they didn't even know each other, really. They never had. Their mutual past was marked with misunderstandings, mistakes, misconceptions, crimes. Only recently did she feel like she knew him, and still she felt as though she'd only scratched the surface.

Sephiroth raised one fine eyebrow. "I doubt Cloud would appreciate finding you in such a position."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes like a petulant teenage girl and made to get off of him, but he settled one muscular arm around her shoulders, a show of affection. He seemed nervous, suddenly. It was an odd thing, seeing Sephiroth nervous. Almost as odd as seeing him awkward.

_Why am I sitting in his lap? Have I completely lost my mind? Must be a side-effect of spending too much time with him... he smells good..._

"Thank you," he said. "For your friendship."

Tifa couldn't help it. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips. Nobody, as far as she could remember, had ever thanked her for being their friend. It would have sounded strange coming from somebody else. In fact, it sounded even stranger coming from him. "Thank _you_," she said with a smile, "for keeping that temper in check."

"I really don't see what the fuss is about concerning this temper problem that I in fact do not have." He said it with a serious tone, but she saw a muscle jump in his cheek and knew he was teasing her. "It seems to me that Cloud has a more volatile temper than I do."

Taking a shot at her childhood friend? She shook her head, smiled again. This sudden casualness, the lightness in his voice and the ease with which they could laugh and smile and joke with each other, had her feeling bolder towards him than she usually felt. She decided now was as good a time as any to venture into his dietary needs. "Are you hungry?"

His eyebrow went up again. "I suppose I might be."

What sort of answer was that? "You might be? You mean... you don't know?"

Sephiroth shrugged his massive shoulders. "I have never required the same nutrition as... normal people."

Tifa made a silent vow to ensure he started eating regularly. "Let's get some breakfast. Do you drink coffee?" She hauled herself out of his lap rather reluctantly without waiting for an answer, and headed for the door.

"I understand caffeine is not good for a person." He trailed after her, moving in absolute silence. He was really rather frightening, if she was honest with herself. But only on the surface. Under that cool exterior lay a confused, troubled soul with as much emotional scarring as anyone else. Only he had a facade that rivalled even hers at times.

_I'm fine. Don't worry about me._

They were alike in many ways, she decided as they made their way down to the Shildra Inn. "True, but I'm exhausted, and I have a feeling it's going to be a long day," she said, laying her hand on his upper arm and allowing him to escort her down the last flight of stairs.

"Self-medicating? I expected better from you, Tifa."

She pinched his inner arm, but it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. No fun. "I would have gotten more sleep if somebody didn't wake me up at 3:00 A.M," she shot back. "By the way, I'm happy to report that not a drop of blood was spilled. But Genesis was the one who made things worse."

"He does that, often enough," Sephiroth said, amused. "Though in his defence, he does clean up the messes that he makes."

They went into the small, crowded Inn, the smell of breakfast food and strong coffee perking Tifa up immediately. Cloud, Nanaki, and Cid sat at one table, Vincent and Genesis at another. Nanaki sat on his haunches on a chair, resting his chin on the table. His ears drooped slightly and his tail was absolutely still. Exhausted. Cid was going to town on a fry-up breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, sausages, toast smothered in butter. Cloud's plate of food was untouched, and his eyes fixed on Tifa's hand resting against Sephiroth's arm the moment they walked into the room.

"Hey, you two," Cid said, bits of scrambled egg flying out of his mouth and landing in Nanaki's fiery red mane. "Oops..." He reached over and picked some of the egg out of the creature's fur. Nanaki growled half-heartedly, apparently too tired to talk. "How was your... uhh... conversation?"

"Intense," Tifa said, grabbing Sephiroth's hand and pulling him towards the table where Genesis and Vincent sat. He gave in without resistance, sitting next to his old friend, who clapped him on the shoulder merrily. He brushed the gesture of affection away.

"I dislike you at the moment, Genesis."

The words didn't seem to faze the redhead. Tifa suspected he was doing laps around the others in the number-of-coffee-cups-consumed department. He seemed incredibly alert and chipper, as opposed to Cloud, Cid, Nanaki, and herself. Sephiroth and Vincent, of course, didn't appear to be suffering in the slightest from lack of sleep.

"Ah, well. Do let me know when you like me again." Genesis grabbed his coffee cup and filled it, added two heaping spoonfuls of sugar, and sat down once more. "Breakfast, my dear?" he asked Tifa politely.

"Yeah," she said, stifling a yawn and slumping down in a chair between Vincent and Sephiroth. Genesis went off to harass the Innkeeper about another two plates of food, and came back with two steaming cups of coffee. He set one in front of Tifa, and the other in front of Sephiroth.

"It's damn good coffee," he said.

Tifa watched Sephiroth slowly raise the cup to his mouth and take a sip. She wasn't the only one staring at him. Everyone in the room, barring Nanaki, watched him as he tasted his coffee. He set the cup down as slowly as he'd picked it up, his eyes on Genesis. "Not enough sugar," he said finally.

Tifa bit back a smile and gulped down a quarter of her own coffee, ignoring how steaming-hot it was; the liquid scorched a trail down her throat, and she winced slightly. "Perfect."

Vincent took out his gun and began to polish it with the edge of his cape. Nanaki began to snore quietly. An awkward, unsettled silence fell over the unusual group of people, punctured only by the soft, dog-like snoring. Tifa happily tucked into her breakfast, gobbling down her heavily buttered toast, spearing potatoes onto her fork and chewing them with relish. She glanced at Sephiroth, saw that he was simply staring into his cup of coffee, and elbowed him in the ribs. He turned his head very slowly to fix her with a piercing stare that others might have found intimidating, even frightening. She grinned at him and pointed down at his plate. "Have some breakfast."

He picked up a strip of bacon and examined it very closely. "This is hardly nutritious fare."

"Just eat your bacon."

He nibbled at the strip of meat, to appease her. She avoided looking at him, mostly because she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. But he seemed unconcerned with the fact that he had the attention of almost everyone in the room. He ate his bacon very slowly, then started on his toast. Tifa felt a surge of slightly giddy triumph. If she could ease him into normalcy, into being more human, doing more human things, she felt it would make a difference in his life. Maybe not a big difference, but a difference all the same. To him it might be a simple meal, but to her it felt like something more.

_You're being silly..._

"I guess Rufus Shinra will be in touch with us before long," Cid spoke up into the awkward silence.

"Does Reeve know about these two?" Cloud asked, watching Sephiroth and Genesis drink their respective coffees.

"He does not," Vincent said. "I imagine the President will inform him."

"I would like to go to Nibelheim," Genesis said casually. "I believe these missing people have been subjected to Professor Hojo's experiments. That would be what the Turks encountered in Mt. Nibel. Mako-infected monsters."

"Perhaps he is attempting something new with mako infusions," Sephiroth said, stabbing at the potatoes on his plate so violently that both Cloud and Cid jumped in their chairs. "Or perhaps... he is doing more to these monsters than simply infusing them with mako."

"We can do away with them," Genesis said dismissively.

Sephiroth inclined his head in agreement and took another sip of coffee.

"You're going to Nibelheim?" Cloud asked in alarm. "You can't go to Nibelheim."

Tifa looked over at him. He was watching Sephiroth with a mixture of suspicion and fascination. She glanced back at Sephiroth. He stared at Cloud, one eyebrow raised quizzically. "I can't go to Nibelheim? Enlighten me, Cloud. Why can I not go to Nibelheim?" he asked, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. His tone was calm, nonjudgmental, but she sensed a sort of aggravation coming from him.

"Well... because." Cloud scratched his head awkwardly. "I mean... you've done enough to Nibelheim."

"I'm coming with you," Tifa said to Sephiroth, ignoring Cloud's rather ridiculous sentiment.

Sephiroth set his coffee cup down and frowned at her. "I think not."

"You're not going anywhere with him," Cloud said sharply. "No way."

"Oh it's up to you, is it?" she answered, her tone of voice coming off a bit snippier than she meant it to.

"I agree with Cloud."

That sentiment earned the ex-SOLDIER shocked looks from almost everyone in the room, including Tifa. Genesis and Vincent were the only ones who didn't express surprise, but then, Tifa had never known Vincent to ever look surprised, never mind shocked. The gunman merely stared at Cloud with one perfectly shaped raven eyebrow quirked up slightly.

"You do?" Cloud asked in amazement. "You agree with me?"

"Yes. Tifa should stay here."

She felt oddly like a scolded child, and tried to brush the feeling off. Whether Sephiroth's intent on keeping her safe was because of his affection for her, or because she was a woman, didn't matter. It rubbed against a very sensitive part of her. She wasn't used to being excluded. As a child she'd been a bit of a ringleader, accustomed to having a gaggle of boys following her around, Cloud included. When she first moved to Midgar, she'd jumped right into bartending, and the role fit her well. She'd been a confidant, a shoulder to cry on, and emotional support for numerous residents of the Sector Seven slums who chased their problems away by looking for the bottom of the bottle. It wasn't that she liked being the centre of attention- far from it. She preferred the sideline, really. But not a stagnant sideline.

"I am not staying here. Don't be ridiculous," she said to him fiercely. "If you're going to Nibelheim, I'm coming with you. Don't forget, that creep tied me down to an operating table and came very close to..." she hesitated, then finished rather weakly, "you know."

"I know," Sephiroth answered, his expression softening as he met her gaze over his cup of coffee. "I imagine you would rather not end up back in that position."

"Not really," she agreed. "Besides, it's dangerous in the mountains. You'll need a guide."

Cloud groaned. Vincent snorted- coming from him, the sound was oddly elegant. Genesis let out a guffaw, and Sephiroth allowed a wry smile. "And where would I find this guide?"

She smiled back at him, aware that Cloud was observing their interaction. She snuck a glance at her childhood friend- he had a queer expression on his face, as though somebody had pinched him. She supposed the whole thing had to be pretty surreal from somebody else's perspective. What had become normal for her- being around Sephiroth, talking to him, being his friend- was still bizarre by the standards of anyone else. Except Genesis, but he was in a class of his own. "I haven't forgotten how to get through the mountains," she said. "You don't want to get lost. Look at what happened to the Turks."

Genesis scoffed quietly. "Plainly they had no idea what they were doing. Idiots."

"Particularly that redhead."

"Don't be so petty."

Sephiroth gave Genesis a cutting look, then stared down at his coffee. He was giving something serious consideration. Tifa could tell by the way his eyes grew distant and his expression became blank. She gave him time to think things over, and turned to Genesis with full intentions of berating him for being such a shit-disturber. But he flashed her a roguish smile so charming that she couldn't resist grinning back at him. "You're terrible."

He sipped at his coffee. "I know."

"You really are."

Vincent pulled out his phone and began punching in a text message, the soft beep of each button amplified in the sudden quiet.

"Who are you texting?" Cloud asked, his voice weary but curious.

"That thieving little girl." Vincent lowered his phone and stared at Cloud. "In this method of communication I do not actually have to speak to her. I prefer it."

Poor Vincent. Why was it so difficult for him to admit that he was actually quite fond of Yuffie? True, Yuffie was young and a bundle of barely-contained energy, and Vincent seemed ancient at times, with about as much enthusiasm for life as a rock, but Tifa thought they made a good team. "What are you saying to her?"

Vincent held up his phone so she could see the screen.

_Call Reeve_

"That's it?"

He shrugged indifferently. "That's all that is necessary."

"I'm amazed that you get service out here," Genesis said.

Sephiroth broke out of his silent reverie and turned to the redhead. "I am not petty. Reno the Turk is quite obviously a complete dunce. Ask anyone in this room and I'm sure they will agree. My comment had no hidden connotations. I was merely agreeing that the Turks were idiots."

"You had fifteen minutes to come up with an argument and that's all you've got?" Cloud asked.

Vincent's phone began to ring. He stared at it as though it was evil incarnate. "Damn."

"Answer it," Genesis prompted.

"I'm above such silliness," Sephiroth continued, "and on the subject of being petty, Genesis, was it not you who-"

Tifa pressed a finger against his mouth, shushing him, and was surprised by the softness of his lips. He turned to her and she shook her head, leaning towards him to whisper in his ear. "Don't let him get to you. That's what he wants."

"Answer the damned phone," Genesis said.

Vincent breathed out a long-suffering sigh and flipped his phone open. "This is not Reeve's number."

On the other end of the line, Yuffie's girlish voice was going off about something loud enough for all of them to hear. Poor Vincent, Tifa thought with a little grin. She caught Sephiroth's eye and her grin grew wider.

"If you want an update on the situation... I would rather not, Yuffie. No. No, I am not going to give you an explanation, I have a certain allotment of free minutes each moth and I am not going to waste them. I'm on a contract, Yuffie. I'm... I can't. Call Reeve. Goodbye. Goodbye, I said. This conversation is o- what are you insinuating?" Vincent growled and snapped his phone shut, banging it on the table.

"Oh my," Genesis said. "I must get myself one of those. Where can I buy a phone?"

"I recommend you don't." Vincent glared at the offending device. "Not if you value your sanity."

"I shall never get a phone," Sephiroth said, taking a long, pondering sip of coffee. He glanced at Tifa and tried to hide his smile behind the coffee mug.

"Alright." Cloud stood up and banged his hand down on the table, rousing Nanaki from his slumber. "We're going to Nibelheim. Vincent, Cid... Cid, wake up."

"...mmph.."

"Nanaki..."

"Thinks he's a leader," Genesis muttered.

Tifa frowned at him. Cloud _was_ a leader, and a good one at that. He never balked when something needed done. She opened her mouth to defend her friend, but Sephiroth beat her to the punch.

"Genesis, you might consider that we are here solely by Tifa's invitation. This situation will be much easier to deal with if we cooperate. Now that may require you to swallow your pride, but such as it goes."

"I'm not taking orders from a boy. And you don't take orders from anyone. Oh!" A wicked smile flashed across the redhead's handsome face, and he glanced at Tifa slyly. "Except for the lovely Miss Lockhart."

"Tifa," Cloud continued, ignoring both of the ex-SOLDIERs, "you know your way around that area better than anyone." He turned to Sephiroth. "You want to come with us?"

"I'm confused. Was it not you and I who decided to go to Nibelheim?" Genesis asked Sephiroth.

Vincent's phone began to ring once more. He pointedly ignored it. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow quizzically and pushed the phone towards its owner. "I'm no expert in the field of communication, but I believe she wants to have a word with you," he said before turning his attention back to Cloud. "Yes, we will be coming with you."

"No dirty tricks," Cloud warned uneasily. "No mind games, Sephiroth."

"I'm afraid I've lost my zest for mind games." Sephiroth stood up- Cloud's unease visibly grew- and motioned for Genesis. "Come, we have things to discuss."

"I take it you don't dislike me anymore?"

"On the contrary, I still dislike you." Sephiroth's hand fell on Tifa's shoulder and he gave her a gentle squeeze. Genesis chuckled to himself, slapped Sephiroth on the back, and the two men left unceremoniously.

Cloud let out a loud sigh, relief mixed with agitation. "This is crazy."

Tifa blanched at the word. "Don't say that, Cloud."

He raised his eyebrows, regarding her with faint confusion. "Say what?"

"That word. Crazy. Don't say it."


	15. Psychosomatic

**A/N: So I am taking a much-needed break from working on anything other than this. Which is to say I am giving this story the attention it deserves. Which is to say, here is another chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Deepest gratitude to all of my readers and reviewers. RYNO, I recall you mentioning something about working on your own story. I would love to check it out. Even if you haven't posted it. Are you looking for a beta? :) **

**Thanks to my readers and reviewers. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter #15**

**Psychosomatic**

"Very well. I admit that my feelings for her are not strictly platonic. They _are_ strictly under control, however." He paced to the front of the _Shera's_ observation deck, then turned and glared at Genesis, detesting him for managing to draw out that particular admission. It did no good to have people know you well enough to understand unspoken things. It only led to embarrassment and fear. Sephiroth wasn't well-acquainted with fear, and this fear in particular was a stranger to him. He'd never been afraid of how a person might react to his thoughts and feelings. Never. Not long ago he considered it pathetic, weak and low, to be so influenced by another person.

"Under control, you say? I do believe you haven't quite snapped back to reality, Sephiroth. You are not under control." Genesis smiled, as though this little fact was endearing rather than pathetic. He meandered along the same path Sephiroth had taken, ending up directly in front of him.

"I tell you it doesn't matter, Genesis. I will put aside my... feelings..." He faltered over the word, hating his own voice, but pressed on coolly. "I will focus on the task at hand. I suggest you do the same."

"You have spent the past several hours searching for a way to keep a very capable woman from helping us get a handle on this supposed situation in Nibelheim," Genesis said, his eyes glittering. "She can guide us through the mountains and from what I understand, Tifa packs a real punch-"

"We don't need a guide or an extra body," he cut in, irritated by his friend's tone. "You and I are more than capable of handling the situation on our own. I am not objecting to Cloud and his friends coming along simply because they will do so anyway. As for Tifa, I will make damn sure she has someone at her side at all times." Though he knew the young woman could hold her own, that she'd done so countless times before, Sephiroth could not bring himself to idly watch her endanger her life. Not in any way. Because the simple notion, the very suggestion, that something bad might happen to her, filled him with intense unease. Concern. That was what he felt for her. Deep, gut-wrenching concern.

"I am merely stating the obvious. Your feelings are not under control, Sephiroth. And they are getting in the way." Genesis smiled despite the callous nature of his words, as though he found it charming that Sephiroth was struggling to cope with his emotions.

He was not going to tolerate being spoken to this way. Not by Genesis, who had even less self-restraint than Cloud Strife did. "Don't bother stating the obvious. I'm not a fool. I want her to be safe. Feeling concern for a dear friend is a completely natural and human thing-" He halted at the word human and threw Genesis a dark scowl.

"I'm not trying to insult you. As you said, I'm merely stating the obvious." Genesis lifted one eyebrow and shook his head. "You can't hide her from the world. She'll only resent you if you try. She's not a damsel in distress, Sephiroth. She doesn't _need_ protecting."

He almost agreed with his comrade, but hesitated to say so. The fuzzy memories of three years ago. He mentally began to dig through the dirt in search of what he knew had to be there. What was it? One of Cloud's childhood memories, glowing in his mind amidst all the confusion the Jenova cells caused-

_Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to at least experience that once..._

A different girl, back then. Tifa had developed into a very strong and independent woman. Of course, she'd been through so much in life. It horrified him to think that the majority of her bad memories were linked to him, directly or indirectly. Memories could be terrible things. With that thought Sephiroth found himself wishing he was with Tifa, so he could express to her what he was thinking about. She would surely have something to say on the subject of memories. Something positive.

And yet...

Her unwavering optimism troubled him. Her compassion, her altruism. It made him vaguely uneasy, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because he knew a facade when he saw one, because he'd spent the majority of his life wearing a mask. And underneath it there were terrible things that mutated and grew the longer they were hidden away. So perhaps Tifa did need protecting, at least from her own personal demons. But what did he really know about people?

"I disagree," he said finally, watching Genesis for his reaction.

The redhead's gaze drifted past him. "Vincent."

Sephiroth half-turned to look at the raven-haired man standing at the door to the observation deck, his strange, unreadable red eyes flickering between the two ex-SOLDIERs. He hadn't made a sound, not even a soft footstep or the rustle of fabric. "The head of the WRO has requested that we investigate Nibelheim immediately. He also expressed that he would like to meet with both of you."

Sephiroth glanced at Genesis to find him looking puzzled, his fine eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Who?"

"Reeve Tuesti."

"Sounds familiar," Genesis muttered.

The name did ring a bell, albeit a very distant and quiet one. Sephiroth racked his brain for a moment, searching through the slushpile of useless information related to his career with Shinra- where else would he remember a name from?- and it came to him at last. He very nearly snapped his fingers in recognition. "Head of Urban Development. He designed the mako reactors in Midgar."

"Yes. There is no one better suited to oversee the rebuilding of our world than Reeve." Vincent strode past both of them and stood at the front of the deck, staring out at Cosmo Canyon. The caped gunman looked forlorn and almost frail, yet oddly intimidating; his Turk days had obviously stuck with him, for his shoulders remained rigid rather than sagging and his voice was cool and detached as he spoke. "He will want a report on what we find in Nibelheim. I ask that both of you avoid the village. It will do no good for people to see you," he addressed Sephiroth. "It will only cause panic. The situation there is troubling enough without the local populace spotting you."

Of course. It had never really occurred to him what the public's reaction would be to his existence- he rarely thought of the future, concerning himself more with the situation at hand. And Tifa, naturally. The future was too overwhelmingly complicated. How could he hope to live anything close to a normal life? He could never have a job- nobody would hire him. He could never simply walk down the street, not in any town or village on the planet. "I'm aware of my reputation," he said finally.

Vincent's expression almost imperceptibly softened. "I suspect Reeve wants to enlist you. He is a firm believer in offering second chances." He turned to Genesis. "You as well. The WRO has an enormous task at hand, stabilizing the planet."

The sudden flash of anxiety concerning the future faded, though it remained present in the back of Sephiroth's mind. He suspected it would always be there now that he was aware of it. He would simply have to find a way to cope with it, in time. Not at the moment. He could not afford to think about it now. It would only distract him from what needed to be done- putting a stop to Hojo's madness, and ensuring Tifa's safety. It ought to have troubled him that the former was so much more important than the latter, yet it seemed completely natural. The concern for her.

"We should prepare to leave, then," he said finally, aware that Vincent was scrutinizing him, probably attempting to interpret his words and body language. Turks were well-trained for such things.

"There is one other thing." The ex-Turk glanced at Genesis pointedly, in effect dismissing him.

Sephiroth was in no mood to discuss anything private. It would undoubtedly involve either Tifa or Cloud, or perhaps both. For reasons unknown, Genesis took this opportunity to actually do what was asked of him, and with a knowing smile he left the observation deck, his lone black wing finding its way out from his cape and fluttering for a moment before folding itself along his back.

The sudden awkwardness was swift and unyielding. He turned away from Vincent and waited impatiently.

"I was in love once, years ago."

He was very glad that he'd turned his back on the other man. It allowed him to close his eyes and frown without having his expression read. "Is this prudent to the task we have to complete?"

"There are things in life that aren't simply... tasks, to be completed and forgotten." Vincent's tone held the voice of experience, heavy and laced with regret. "I know, as a former Turk, that one develops a certain mindset-"

"You are accusing me of being... unfeeling."

"Not at all."

"Good." He schooled his expression into one of calm disinterest and turned to Vincent. "I don't wish to think of you as a hypocrite."

He ignored the jibe, seemingly unaffected by it. "This woman was my world. I would have died for her. Killed for her. Had she asked me to."

How well Sephiroth knew that feeling. To be at the mercy of a woman, to feel the need to do something, anything, to simply make her smile. He waited with impatience for Vincent to get to the point, but the man seemed lost in thought now, as though he'd forgotten what he'd wanted to say. "What is it?" Sephiroth asked finally.

"I stood idly by while the woman I loved made the wrong decision." Vincent's crimson eyes took on a terribly haunted look. "What I mean to say is... tell Tifa how you feel."

Was it so glaringly obvious? "I can't."

"Why?"

"There is no point- firstly, to put my feelings into so many words would trivialize them..." Sephiroth paused and shook his head. "It might hurt her, and that I could never do."

"You're missing the point, Sephiroth. It will hurt her more to not be aware of your feelings. Consider it- she doesn't know why you are so protective of her. She doesn't know why you would do anything she asks of you. Tell her, and let her judge your actions for what they are. To simply not act would be far worse than any rejection."

"I tell you there is no point. I would rather keep what I have with her than risk losing anything in the hope that I might gain... What?"

Vincent was looking at him quite meaningfully.

"Gain what?"

How ridiculously ironic. He half-turned and there she was, her face slightly pale and drawn from lack of sleep, but her eyes bright and alert from coffee and nerves. She was wearing her gloves and sturdy hiking boots, and had a wide-brimmed hat in one hand. Ready for the coming day. Tifa gave Vincent a quizzical look before returning her attention to Sephiroth. He'd never felt so painfully, horribly vulnerable as her mahogany eyes searched his.

"I have a phone call to make... excuse me." Vincent was almost smiling, and Sephiroth wanted to skewer him for it. Vincent touched Tifa's shoulder as he passed her, leaving them alone on the observation deck.

"I'm sorry." She chewed on her lower lip, studying him intently. "I didn't mean to barge in."

"Nonsense," he said, painfully aware of his heart beating at an above-average speed. How much had she heard? Why had she chosen this moment to come to him?

"Umm..." She tucked one foot behind her ankle and smiled suddenly, a slightly guilty smile. Her eyes betrayed her though; they gleamed with an almost morbid curiosity. "I would ask, but it's probably none of my business."

But it _was_ her business. Vincent was right. He swallowed in an attempt to loosen the tightness in his throat, so that he might form a coherent sentence. "Tifa..." He couldn't. Not with her looking at him like that, like he'd sprouted a second head.

"You're bleeding," she declared, closing the distance between them quite suddenly- she moved with startling speed, reminding him that she was indeed a very skilled fighter- and pulling a wad of tissues from the pocket in her skirt. She dabbed at the area right below his nose, and the white tissue came away with a vivid red stain. Nosebleed. "Here, tilt your head back."

Sephiroth found himself more concerned with the fact that Tifa carried tissues around in her pocket than he was about his nosebleed, but he obeyed her command without question. She pinched his nose for him, held the tissue there. It was a stretch for her- she seemed so small at times, and frail. "Why do you have-"

"We're going to Nibelheim, right? I'll need them," she said. It came out slightly strangled, and for the first time Sephiroth wondered if perhaps _he_ shouldn't return to Nibelheim.

Gently he took her hand away from his face and held the tissue himself, letting it catch the blood that dribbled out of his nose. "You don't have to go."

"No," she agreed softly. "_We_ need to go. Both of us." When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. "Listen to me, Sephiroth. The way I see it, we've got two options. One- we can carry on trying to make this thing between us seem normal. Or we can talk about it. Talk to me. Tell me how you feel." Her tone grew almost urgent with the request.

He lowered the tissue and dabbed at his nose with one finger. The bleeding had stopped, but a stabbing pain had started up in his head. Feelings. Tifa wanted to talk about his feelings. "Tifa... I can't..."

"I know it's hard." She rested her gloved hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes; he wondered briefly where she'd found this sudden courage, this openness. The answer came to him immediately, it was so plainly obvious. She'd been put up to this. And there was only one person he knew who would put Tifa up to confronting him...

"Genesis," he hissed. "What moronic drivel has he been spouting at you?"

Tifa laughed, clapping her hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I'm not laughing at you."

Of course she wasn't laughing at him. She would never be so insensitive. Still, the vulnerable feeling in his stomach seemed to intensify at her reaction. "The meddling fool," he muttered, for lack of anything better to say.

Tifa's expression grew serious once more. "Please listen to me, Sephiroth. I know talking about your feelings is hard. You never know what to say. It makes you feel silly and weak... and vulnerable. But you can't not say anything. Trust me, that only makes things worse." She grimaced as she said this, as though her words recalled a particularly unpleasant memory.

He looked down at her gravely. "I doubt discussing my feelings will make things better, Tifa."

"It will," she said.

Her confidence gave him a much-needed boost of courage; he swallowed his pride and fear and anxiety, and without considering the best way to describe his feelings for her, plunged in recklessly. "I care for you... so much so that it inhibits my ability to make rational decisions. I've never... felt such concern for another person before." It was certainly no declaration of love, and his words sounded oddly disjointed, but it was the best Sephiroth could do. She deserved much better.

Tifa flung herself at him- for a wild and panicked moment he thought she was angry- and embraced him in a fierce hug. He froze up and stood there with her holding onto him as though he might disappear if she let go, and tried vainly to interpret her reaction. When that endeavour failed miserably, he realized that simply standing there probably wasn't the best thing to do, and slipped his arms around her tiny waist, holding her to him. She showed no signs of releasing him. Not that he wanted her to- the intimacy of having Tifa Lockhart pressed tightly against him, her arms slung around his neck and her fingers buried in his hair, tugging slightly, the scent of clean cotton and soap tickling his nose, was almost frighteningly wonderful.

"It's okay to care," she said, her words muffled by her face pressed against his chest. "I care about you. I'm _worried_ about you."

"Why?"

Tifa lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Because you're sick. And don't tell me not to worry," she added quickly when he opened his mouth to protest, "because I can't help it. You're getting worse. Vomiting, nosebleeds... there's probably more that you aren't telling me about."

"I don't want to worry you," he said lamely, knowing it was a pointless argument to make. "I'm sure it's nothing."

She snorted indignantly. "I'm sure it's not."

"Tifa, considering my track record in mortality... I have been physically disposed of several times-"

"It's different this time."

And to that Sephiroth could not argue with her. Yes, this time was very, very different. He couldn't recall ever feeling quite so... complete. Surely there had to be a way to ease Tifa's mind. As much as her concern touched him, and warmed that part of him he'd only recently discovered, he did not want her to carry any sort of burden on her shoulders, particularly one caused by him. "I feel better after eating breakfast," he said finally, smiling at her.

It seemed to do the trick. Tifa's expression brightened and she grinned back at him. He couldn't resist pulling her close and giving her one last squeeze as Cloud Strife appeared in the doorway, Cid, Vincent, and Genesis hovering behind him. His eyes widened in horror before narrowing. Sephiroth released the young woman and nodded at Cloud.

"We need to get ready," Cloud said, approaching the two of them in an almost cautious manner. He put a protective hand on Tifa's shoulder, but she shrugged it off, flashing him a smile to ease the harshness of her reaction.

"I'm ready to go," she answered, perching her hat on her head jauntily.

* * *

**(WRO Headquarters, Edge)**

"Ermmhgm."

Reeve looked up from the file he'd been studying for the past two hours, and smiled warmly. "Ah, Yuffie. I didn't hear you come in."

"That's because I'm a ninja," she said, pummelling her fists into the air before sitting on the corner of his desk.

"Watch the paperwork," he said automatically, closing the file. "Have you talked to Vincent?"

"Nobody talks to Vincent. It's impossible. It's more like talking _at_ him." Yuffie stuck her bottom lip out, then grinned. "You're a champ for handling all the tedious stuff. Doesn't it suck being stuck behind a desk?"

Reeve smiled. Indeed it did get rather boring sitting at a desk all day, but it had become so normal to him, being on the periphery of any real action, that he found he didn't mind. He felt more in control this way. More useful. "I don't mind. Did Vincent fill you in?"

"No, he did not fill me in. He told me to call you." Yuffie's girlish voice was gritty with indignation. "That jerk, always blowing me off."

"Have you considered that maybe Vincent doesn't want you to get involved because he doesn't want you to get hurt?"

"Because he thinks I can't take care of myself," she pouted.

Reeve very nearly said, "Because he thinks he can't take care of you," but let the words die on his tongue. It wasn't his place to point out such things, and besides that Vincent would likely put a gun to his head if he did. "Sephiroth is alive."

Yuffie showed absolutely no sign that this was news to her. She simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Didn't see that one coming."

"Genesis Rhapsodos," Reeve waved the file he'd been reading at her, "is also alive. They are currently en route to Nibelheim with Cloud, Vincent, Tifa, Cid, and Nanaki. You know about the missing people, I assume?" When Yuffie nodded, he continued, "Shinra had sent the Turks there to investigate, and they only just made it out alive. Somebody has been experimenting on humans there, showering them with mako and creating monsters-"

"Whoa. Wait." Yuffie raised her hands, frowning. "Back up a minute."

"Yes?" He smiled patiently, as though nothing about what he'd just said was out of the ordinary. Yuffie got wound up so easily, by the smallest thing, it almost wasn't fair. Though he enjoyed it all the same.

"Sephiroth and... whatever his name was, are with Cloud? Like, working with him?"

"That depends- I'm more inclined to think that Cloud and the others are working with Sephiroth and Genesis, from what Vincent has told me."

Yuffie leaped off the desk and began pacing around the spacious office, pausing to glance out the glass wall; he'd designed the WRO headquarters himself, and it was a light-filled, airy building. The view from his office was a rapidly expanding city. The downtown area, where the headquarters were, now had a bank, a city hall, a hospital, two clinics, several employment agencies, and Shinra's new office, a surprisingly modest three-storey building. Restaurants and clubs seemed to be opening daily. Convenience stores were popping up on every street corner, it seemed. Reeve couldn't be happier.

"That jerk!" She whipped out her phone as though it was her shuriken, and savagely punched a number in. "Voicemail!" she hissed. "Hey, you! You've got serious nerve, not telling me about Sephiroth and Nibelheim and everything else! You're dead meat when I get a hold of you, Valentine!" She snapped the phone shut and pocketed it. "So what, Sephiroth's a good guy now?"

Reeve exhaled patiently. Yuffie had a hair-trigger temper and a tendency to overreact, so it would take some diplomacy to keep her calm. He settled his hands in his lap. "Vincent drew up a report on Sephiroth Crescent and turned it in a few days ago. Most of it consists of Tifa's account on Sephiroth's behaviour towards her. It seems like he's warmed up to her, and she to him. The two have become friends. Sephiroth shows signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, presumably from previous psychotic breaks and possibly even prolonged psychosis. It's possible he suffers from borderline personality disorder- we would have to do a psychiatric evaluation to really know. Either way, I would be cautious labelling a person either 'good' or 'bad,' Yuffie."

"So what you're telling me is that Sephiroth is crazy."

"Well-"

"I knew that already," she huffed. "Everyone knows he's a loony."

"Yuffie, what I'm telling you is that it seems Tifa's broken through to him on some level, and for all intents and purposes yes, Sephiroth is a good person."

The feisty young woman opened her mouth to retort, then paused. She seemed to struggle for words for a moment, a rare sight. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"Sorry?"

"Tifa." Yuffie stuck her bottom lip out sulkily. "Why didn't she tell me about Sephiroth? This explains so much." She flopped down in the chair opposite Reeve's desk. "She was acting so weird after the whole thing with Hojo and Sephiroth. I should have known something was up."

"She didn't tell anyone, not that I'm surprised. Vincent discovered Sephiroth and Genesis Rhapsodos in her apartment when he was checking up on her."

"Well... so what, Tifa just took Sephiroth in? Jeez, what is with that girl? She's gotta save every sad, hopeless soul that turns up on her doorstep?"

Reeve managed a smile. "You know Tifa. That's the type of woman she is."

Yuffie pursed her lips into a thin line. "This whole thing stinks. I don't like it. Did you know Sephiroth was almost singlehandedly responsible for destroying Wutai? That bastard commanded every single troop that stepped foot on Wutaian soil."

"He also burned Tifa's hometown to the ground, killed her father, and nearly sliced her in two." He gazed at Yuffie with a serene and reasonable expression, a look he'd cultivated while working for Shinra. "Nobody is denying what he did, Yuffie. But you have to accept that perhaps we didn't have all the facts before. We still don't, but at least we have something to work with."

She threw hands in the air impatiently. "Whatever. I'm going to boogie over to Nibelheim. Give Vincent a piece of my mind, and make sure Tifa's okay. What if that lunatic did something to her? Tricked her, or manipulated her?"

"I trust Tifa's judgement. And I trust Vincent's judgement as well."

Yuffie scuffed the hardwood floor with her shoe, considering him for a moment. "Can I see Vincent's report?"

"Of course." Reeve shifted several stacks of paper around before pulling out a four-page document with the WRO seal at the top. He handed it to Yuffie, who snatched it from his fingers like a hungry animal and began to read. "I have a meeting with Rufus Shinra, so if you'll excuse me-"

"You're dismissing me?" Her mouth dropped in surprise and her hands clenched into fists. "That's it? That's all I get?" She drew herself up indignantly. "I'm a WRO agent! I deserve to know what's going on! I-"

"If you want me to give you something to do," he cut in with a smile, "then I'm more than willing to. If you feel so inclined, take a team of agents with you and go to Icicle. Interrogate the villagers, see if Hojo left anything behind there. But don't go alone," he added quickly.

Yuffie wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. I hate the cold. And the snow. Besides, I'm not going on some useless trip to the middle of nowhere just for something to do."

Before Reeve could answer, his phone began to ring. He gave Yuffie an apologetic smile as he picked up the receiver. His secretary's slightly shrill voice informed him that the President was on his way up. He pursed his lips in disapproval at the tone of her voice when she said that- _the _President_ is on his way_. The distaste was obvious. He thanked her politely nonetheless and set the receiver back in its cradle. "I am sorry, Yuffie, but Rufus and I need to discuss what should be done about Sephiroth and Genesis Rhapsodos." He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache coming on. "It's going to be a long discussion."

"I think you need a vacation, Reeve. Maybe spend the weekend in Costa del Sol." Yuffie dropped her bratty attitude in favour of a more serious one, much to his relief. "You can't fix everything all at once, you know."

He waved his hand at her, dismissing her concern. "I know."

"I'll call you when I get to Nibelheim," she said, getting to her feet just as the door opened and Rufus Shinra stepped in. Yuffie gave him a polite nod and sidestepped him on her wait out. "Later," she called over her shoulder.

"Why she is one of your top agents, I can't begin to guess," Rufus said as the door slammed shut.

"Dedication," Reeve answered, rubbing his temples gently. The headache had come out of nowhere and was now bordering on unbearable.

"I can respect dedication." Rufus sat down and folded his hands in his lap. "Migraine?"

"Just a headache."

"I highly doubt Sephiroth or Genesis Rhapsodos will want anything to do with Shinra. Frankly I wouldn't blame them or hold it against them in the slightest. That being said, they are ex-SOLDIERS. They are the company's responsibility." Rufus jumped right to the point- it was one thing Reeve appreciated about the younger man. "Shinra has an obligation to ensure their well-being," he added in his cool, businesslike tone.

In other words, he wanted the WRO to act on Shinra's behalf regarding Sephiroth. "First and foremost we need to be certain Sephiroth isn't a threat."

"I would expect more trouble from Mr. Rhapsodos, actually. You know, dishonesty isn't a trait I thought Tifa possessed. She lied right to my face about Sephiroth."

"You can't blame Tifa of all people for having her reservations about you," Reeve said kindly.

Rufus shrugged, cavalier as ever. "She doesn't seem to have any reservations about Sephiroth."

Reeve picked up Vincent's report that Yuffie had thrown down on his desk. "Speaking of," he said, giving his temple one last little rub before steeling himself for a long and hefty conversation.


	16. Repression

**A/N: Merry Christmas and a happy new year to all of you. Forgive me for not updating. Life has been hectic, and I've started working on an original novel, but I assure you whole-heartedly that I will not abandon this story. Have faith!**

** This chapter is shorter than most. Originally I was going to have all of the Nibelheim incident in here, but it got far too long and so I split it into two chapters. **

** Thank you for all of the feedback. Special thanks to RYNO for providing the motivation, and Senia for the excellent crit. I see your point, I hear you, and I'm definitely taking your advice!**

**(Fixed the random a/n... sorry guys!)**

**Peace**

* * *

** Chapter #16**

** Repression**

The mountains were like deformed limbs twisting up towards an impossibly blue sky. Nestled at the foothills of those foreboding peaks, Nibelheim actually looked quite welcoming, a respite for weary travellers. The picturesque view was a savage pull on her heartstrings; it was home, and yet it wasn't. Her Nibelheim was gone, relegated to mere memory, and what lay in front of her was a lie built to hide not just what Sephiroth had done, but what Shinra did too.

All the same, it felt like home.

"Are you alright?"

She jumped and turned around to be greeted by Genesis, looking down at her with genuine concern in his mako eyes. It took her by surprise, though she wasn't sure why. She knew he liked her, was fond of her, but she'd been under the impression that he didn't really concern himself with anything or anyone. He even seemed to take the situation with Hojo rather lightly, as though it was all a slightly amusing show that he could sit and watch with his feet propped up.

"I'm fine." She tightened her hands on the railing and looked down at the world, flashing green and brown below her. "Why do you ask?"

Genesis mirrored her pose, leaning forward slightly with his hands supporting his weight. The muscles on his arms stood out impressively, and his strange black wing fluttered in the wind. She tried not to stare, but found she couldn't help herself. It was so alien, so strange, and nobody seemed willing to acknowledge it. "You aren't one to wander off by yourself," he said.

"I'm just thinking."

"About?"

She exhaled slowly. "What you said to me earlier."He wrapped one muscular arm around her and she leaned against him without hesitation, grateful for the physical support. He was constantly surprising her, and she was sure it would be a long time before she could say she knew Genesis Rhapsodos. "You talked to him?" he prompted softly.

Tifa bowed her head to look at her brown leather hiking boots. Part of her wanted to divulge every bewildering thought and feeling she'd had over the past several days- hadn't she told Sephiroth it would help if he talked about his feelings? She was such a coward, even after all this time. After not talking to Cloud, not confiding in or confronting him for years, she still couldn't express herself. It always left her frustrated and embarrassed, and powerless. She hated it.

But part of her wasn't sure Genesis was someone she could share her secrets with. She knew who she wanted to talk to. She knew there was one person she felt comfortable discussing her deepest thoughts with. If only those thoughts didn't revolve around him. "I tried," she said.

"How does it feel to only try?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." His arm tightened around her shoulders.

"It feels bad." The _Shera_ began a slow descent towards the grassy outskirts of Nibelheim, and Tifa felt an answering tightening sensation in her chest. This would be painful. Tense and painful, and possibly disastrous. "Do you think it's a good idea for him to come here?"

Genesis released her and shrugged. "Everyone has their demons, and we all must face them at some point. Only Sephiroth knows if he's ready to do that."

"Do you think he is?"

He shrugged yet again. "I think he's much stronger with you beside him. So yes, with you by his side Sephiroth is completely capable of confronting whatever feelings this little venture will stir in him."

Tifa chewed her bottom lip for a moment, considering the insanity of it all and the ever-present desire to simply sit and chat with the man who killed her father and destroyed her world. She supposed part of her had forgiven Sephiroth the moment he pulled her out of the icy water of that lake she'd so foolishly fallen into. Another part of her forgave him when he confessed that he actually cared about her. And when he'd shown up in Edge, for all intents and purposes a total emotional wreck, her heart had gone out to him because she understood what it was like to see your mistakes. To really see them, acknowledge them head-on and come to terms with them.

"What are you afraid of?" Genesis asked. "Do you think he will mock you? Reject how you feel? Laugh at you, perhaps?"

"No!" she said quickly. "It's not him stopping me. It's..." The words threatened to spill out- she didn't want them, true as they were. She sucked in clean mountain air. "I'm sorry, Genesis. I don't want to talk about it. I'd... like to be alone right now."

His arm dropped away and he inclined his head. His auburn hair fell in his eyes and he brushed it back impatiently. "Of course."

"I didn't mean to offend you." Tifa touched his shoulder lightly, feeling bad for giving him the brush-off.

"You haven't. Excuse me, I must speak with our dear General." He gave her a courteous half-bow and left. She had the distinct impression that she really had offended him, and the whole thing seemed far too heavy for her, with a trip into the mountains around Nibelheim looming over her head.

Tifa sank to the floor and allowed herself a few minutes of dignified self-pity. Of all the people in the world, why had Sephiroth chosen to care about _her_? Would he have found his human side if it had been someone else beside him? And what if he'd been alone in Hojo's lab? Genesis would have found him, and then what? Would the two comrades set out to destroy Hojo on their own? She had a feeling that they were just humouring her, letting her tag along with the rest of her friends. Sephiroth would prefer it if she was holed up in Edge, safely tucked away behind her bar. Why, though? Why did he care about her so much that he wanted her to be, without question, safely out of harm's way, yet he basically let her walk all over him?

She pushed the ex-SOLDIER and their confusing relationship firmly out of her mind. Dwelling on it would drive her crazy, and she needed to have her wits about her. Things had a habit of getting dicey whenever Nibelheim was involved. She needed to focus. The last thing Tifa wanted was to give Sephiroth, or anyone for that matter, a reason to think she couldn't take care of herself. Resolute now and done with her miniscule pity party, she went back up to the observation deck.

Sephiroth was deep into a conversation with Vincent. They both looked quite sober and serious, so she joined Cloud at the very front of the deck. "Hey."

His clear blue eyes were almost a perfect match for the sky as he turned his head to look at her. "Hey, how are you holding up?"

Tifa rubbed her arms. "Okay, I guess. Nervous."

"You don't have to be here."

"Neither do you," she countered. "I want to be here, Cloud." She glanced at Sephiroth.

"It's strange, you know... I forgot what he was like before he destroyed Nibelheim." Cloud followed her gaze before dropping his eyes to the floor. "I wanted to be like him."

"You kind of are," she said with a smile. It was true. He shared more than a few personality traits with his nemesis. Internalizing feelings, putting on a front so others would leave him alone, a general lack of self-worth, just to name a few. She had a sneaking suspicion that Sephiroth had low self-esteem, but she had no way to prove it. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him let his guard down, and even then it was only due to distress. Cloud was like that too.

"Hm," Cloud grunted. "Aren't you even a little worried that he might be manipulating you?"

"Nope." She adjusted her hat and smoothed her black skirt down. It was best not to entertain Cloud's concerns- that would just feed them, she decided.

"He's so normal," Cloud muttered. "It's sort of freaking me out."

"You get used to it."

"How can you be so... " Cloud struggled for a moment, in search of the right word, and continued, "succinct about it?"

Tifa considered the question then shrugged. "I guess I'm just used to it," she said with a smile.

"All right folks, we're landing in fifteen minutes," Cid declared from the wheel. Genesis was standing beside him and studying the beeping, blinking control board in fascination. He seemed quite entranced by the airship, but Tifa doubted he would get the opportunity to fly it. Aside from Cloud, Cid didn't allow anyone to operate his precious machine.

"I think the Turks are getting a little rusty," Cloud said. "Either that or whatever is out there is really nasty."

"It's probably a bit of both. I swear I saw Reno actually doing paperwork last week." She took her hair out of its elastic and began to comb through it with her fingers. As impractical as long hair was, especially for a martial artist, she could never bring herself to cut it. It was vanity, of course, but she could never bring herself to chop off her tresses. Besides, it wasn't like she was the only one. Sephiroth's hair was even longer than hers, and he didn't even bother to tie it back.

"You ready for this?"

She tied her hair back and flashed Cloud a smile. "Are you?"

* * *

"We're going up to the reactor," Cloud said, glancing at Sephiroth uneasily. "If Hojo is up there, we'll take him out. If he's not, we'll search the place."

"Somebody should check the basement in the Shinra Mansion."

Vincent's suggestion entailed splitting up, and that was the last thing Tifa felt like doing. "We could go down there first," she said.

"Count me out," Genesis muttered.

Cid clapped the redhead on the shoulder. "I'm with you, kid."

"Why's that?" Sephiroth asked them, "afraid of ghosts?"

"Yes," Genesis admitted quietly. "Yes, I am afraid of ghosts."

Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed patiently. "Okay. Vincent, Sephiroth... we'll check the Mansion."

Sephiroth nodded curtly and rested his hand on Tifa's shoulder. "Stay with Genesis."

"What? No," she brushed his hand off, "I'm coming with you."

He mirrored Cloud's action, pinching his nose to ward off a headache. "The air here..."

"Mako energy," said Cloud. "Did you forget?"

"It never gave me a headache before." Sephiroth looked down at her, his green eyes determined. "Don't be stubborn. You don't know your way around the Shinra Mansion. Stay here and plan a route up to the reactor with them. I highly doubt we'll find anything down there."

Just like him to give her some harmless, pointless task while he went poking around the lab where he was conceived. If he wanted to play games, she would oblige him. And he would regret it. "But I want to stay with you," she said, letting her fingers slide down his defined bicep, watching carefully for a reaction. A faint hint of colour bloomed on his cheeks- he was flattered.

"Tifa," he said quietly, "don't feel like you have to prove anything to me. I know you're more than capable." He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "And I'd like to speak with Cloud."

She felt suddenly insensitive and too possessive at the same time. "Oh."

He smiled, that smile that she'd noticed was for her only. "Hojo won't be so obvious as to operate out of his old lab," he said confidently. "We won't be long."

Tifa nodded, giving in to him despite the sense of foreboding that welled up inside her. "Okay. We'll wait here."

Cloud stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. "Alright then," he said finally. "Let's mosy."

The motley trio took off down the old cobblestone road that wound through the town. Their retreating figures looked very formidable; Sephiroth and Vincent were quite tall and imposing, and Cloud's broad shoulders and burly arms were emphasized by the huge sword slung across his back. Anyone confronted with those three would definitely back down, if they had any sense.

It was only when they'd disappeared into the Shinra Mansion that Tifa realized what should have been obvious; Vincent, Cloud, and Sephiroth all had a sickeningly intimate connection with the laboratory in the basement. Had they discussed this beforehand? Leaving the group and going down there by themselves? She couldn't imagine Cloud and Sephiroth cooperating on that level- at least, not yet. They really were pretty similar, and she had the strangest feeling that one day they might even be friends, but Cloud had made it abundantly clear that he hated Sephiroth now as much as he ever did. Vincent, though, seemed strangely fond of the ex-SOLDIER. And Tifa appreciated him for it.

"And who're you makin' those eyes at?"

She turned to Cid, trying to ignore the heat building up in her face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

The occasional creak of a floorboard being stepped on cut through the dead silence eerily. The air was too thick and smelled like old, rotting wood. Outside the sun had risen to its highest point, but in the old mansion it was dim and dark; the dirt-smeared windows let in hardly any light, and Cloud had to blink several times to adjust his eyesight. He rubbed at his face with one hand, wiping a thin film of sweat from his forehead. He glanced at Sephiroth, but the man seemed engrossed in his surroundings. That was good. Distracted, he gave Cloud the opportunity to observe him.

Vincent moved silently ahead of them, checking all of the rooms, one hand resting on the holster of his gun. Compared to Sephiroth and contrary to how Cloud felt, he looked almost bored. But that was pretty normal for Vincent. "It seems nobody has been here recently," he said.

"Downstairs," Sephiroth muttered.

Cloud barely managed not to jump at the sound of that voice. He didn't need Sephiroth to know just how on edge he was. Truth be told, he was wired. He was wound up so tightly his stomach hurt. The scars left over from his geostigma infection seemed to be tingling with a phantom pain, and that familiar creepy sensation of being pulled subtly but urgently towards something kept threatening to become real once more, after all this time. Reunion. He almost shuddered.

"Relax," said Vincent as he threw open the door to the basement. A billow of damp, mouldy air rushed out of the blackness.

"I'm fine."

"Ugh." Sephiroth shook his head and fanned the rotten air away from his face. "I almost feel sorry for the Turks."

Cloud didn't comment, much as he wanted to. Sephiroth _felt sorry_ for someone. Had feelings about someone besides hatred. That concept alone was almost too much for him to handle right now. He didn't want to think about whatever was happening with Sephiroth and Tifa. Because something was happening. He wasn't stupid. Not that stupid, anyway. She'd been flirting. With Sephiroth. And Tifa never flirted, not with him, not with her bar patrons, not with anyone.

"You almost feel sorry for Reno?" Vincent asked, disappearing slowly into the dark as he descended the rickety wooden staircase.

"Not him, that imbecile. Despicable human being."

Cloud coughed noisily and followed Sephiroth down the treacherous staircase. Compared to him, Reno was a naive and innocent charmer who did the best with what he had. "Just out of curiosity, what have you got against Reno the Turk?"

"Nothing personal. I simply don't like him."

"Why not?"

Sephiroth stopped mid-stride, turned his head slowly to peer up at Cloud, and shrugged. "I suppose he gave a bad first impression."

"He made the grave mistake of harassing Tifa," Vincent said.

"That is neither here nor there..."

Cloud had the distinct impression that Vincent was laughing. "Okay," he muttered, pushing his obnoxious blond hair out of his eyes, "let's just get this over with."

"I thought we might take this opportunity to... talk." Sephiroth sounded disinterested.

"Yeah? What do you want to talk about? The fact that you destroyed my hometown and killed my mother? The fact that you nearly cut my childhood friend in half? Or-" he was losing his temper but he didn't particularly care, "-do you want to talk about how you... you..." His voice choked up and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "You killed someone who would never even consider hurting another living thing. And you did it for nothing. Is that what you want to talk about?"

"Well, yes... partly." Sephiroth jumped to the ground and turned, watching solemnly as Cloud and Vincent followed him.

"I don't want to talk. I want to track down Hojo, get some answers, and get rid of him. And then I'll deal with you." How he would deal with the menace, he wasn't sure. There were so many things to take into account. For one, he felt a noticeable lack of interest on Sephiroth's part in settling any scores. Tifa had been right; the man had no scheme, nothing up his sleeve. He was aimless. Then there was Tifa herself. And Genesis Rhapsodos. The man had _friends_. And he was ill. It was fairly obvious that he was unwell. There were shadows under his eyes and he looked pale.

Vincent cleared his throat. "Let's carry on."

Sephiroth kicked open the door that led into the laboratory-cum-library, and a new smell assaulted their senses- dead, rotting flesh. He stepped back, allowing Vincent to enter first with his gun drawn and ready.

"I'm not turning my back on you. Not down here," Cloud said.

"Must you be difficult? We have a situation to take care of." Sephiroth lifted one eyebrow and gave Cloud a look that basically told him to stop whining. "Perhaps we can talk later. In private." He followed Vincent into the silent, dusty room.

The source of that rotten smell greeted them front and centre. A badly decomposed corpse that might have been human, oozing black liquid spilling out of its orifices. And there was another one. Two horribly deformed bodies, rotting away in this haunted room. He swallowed to stop the vomit threatning to come out of his mouth, and sputtered, "I'm going to be sick."

"Failed experiments," said Sephiroth. He knelt and studied one of the monstrosities intently. "Humans infused with mako... but I've never seen ones like this before. Hojo must be developing some new... techniques." He dipped his finger in the black slime that coated the floor, examining it in the light. "They have the virus."

"What virus?" Cloud rubbed his head and exhaled to clear his senses of the vile smell.

"Jenova," Vincent said quietly.

"This is more than mako infusion. It's genetic engineering." Sephiroth wiped his finger on his pant leg and straightened up. "I don't understand what he's trying to accomplish."

"I'm willing to be it's not good," Cloud muttered, keeping one hand over his mouth. "There's nothing down here."

"Books are missing." Vincent walked down the hallway and into the study, then returned and stared down at the corpses. "It seems somebody has ransacked the place."

"We should leave," Sephiroth muttered.

Cloud found himself agreeing with the ex-SOLDIER. He felt sick to his stomach as they climbed the stairs and passed through the silent old building, out into the glorious sunlight. "Was that weird for you?" he asked Sephiroth quietly.

Startled, the man glanced at Vincent, who promptly began to ignore them. "Yes, it was weird. Of course, it's been so long... though it does seem like only yesterday." He gave Cloud a tired smile. "Whenever I begin to feel I've put some distance between myself and... that part of me-" there was a brief flash of confusion in his eyes, "-it seems I drag myself right back into it." He blinked rapidly and shook his head. "I suppose I'm not making any sense to you."

"Not really." Cloud scratched his head. He felt suddenly sorry for Sephiroth. And that was not good. He didn't want to feel pity. More than that, he didn't want to understand. But he did, in a small way. And that scared him. All the same, he took a wild guess at what Sephiroth meant. "You're talking about Jenova, right? Your mother?" The word came out clipped, bitter.

"Yes. 'Mother' isn't really the correct term. My mother," he said softly, "was Lucrecia Crescent. But I can feel its presence... Jenova. It's difficult to ignore. It wants my attention. It wants reunion- to be whole again, to be complete." A sardonic smile flashed across his face. "It's hungry."

_Split personality,_ Cloud thought, his gut wrenching viciously. What was it like to have that inside you? An alien presence, a thing that only wanted to destroy, to conquer, to kill. And to be conscious of it as well. No wonder the guy was nuts. "Hungry," he echoed.

Sephiroth looked like he had more to say, and Cloud certainly wanted to hear it, but they were interrupted by Tifa. She met them at the gate, touching Sephiroth's shoulder affectionately and slapping Cloud's arm.

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Sephiroth said.

She looked suspicious, but didn't press them. "We should do a weapons and materia check before we go."

There it was again. That subtle show of affection, the vaguest hint of something deeper. His stomach heaved unpleasantly at the simple thought- that Tifa might... He pushed that particular notion out of his head and began a thorough check of his materia. The other former SOLDIER, Genesis Rhapsodos, had an irritating, all-knowing smile on his face as his mako eyes flickered between Tifa and Sephiroth. She was _lecturing _him.

"But you should eat something, you really should! High altitudes can make people nauseous, not to mention the oxygen depletion, lower temperatures-"

"I'm sure none of that really applies to me." Sephiroth's voice was slow and patient.

"But why take the risk? What if you get up there and start feeling sick?"

"I had a large breakfast."

"You had two pieces of bacon and some toast. Here, I've got some nutrition bars." She rummaged around in her rucksack and pulled out two bars.

"Tifa," Cloud said, "I'm sure Sephiroth can take care of himself."

She raised her eyebrows at him, a little blush colouring her cheeks. "I'm sure he can too. That's not the point. Here, have one." She forced a bar into his hand. "Is everyone ready to go?"

Classic Tifa, concerned for everyone except herself. He wasn't surprised. She had a habit of running herself ragged taking care of others. She also had a habit of taking in people who had nowhere else to go. He supposed it started when she was young; many small creatures had been nursed back to health by her. Then there had been Avalanche, a terrorist organization with nowhere to go. She'd given them a hideout, putting herself at risk in the process. She took him in when he didn't even know who he was. Marlene and Denzel. And now Sephiroth.

"Cloud? Are you ready?" Tifa tapped her foot impatiently.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Genesis? Vincent?"

"I'm not one to turn down food," said Genesis. She tossed him a nutrition bar, which he promptly scarfed down. "Thanks very much."

Cloud's stomach seemed to be contracting, collapsing in on itself. He did not feel well at all. Just watching Genesis eat made him feel like losing his lunch... if he'd had any. He swallowed and focused on what lay ahead. Ever since the Meteor crisis three years ago, he'd found comfort in taking control of situations like this, in voicing out loud what needed to be done."Okay everyone," he said loudly, "let's head out. Keep your eyes peeled- the mountains have their reputation for a reason. There's still a huge monster problem here, and enough missing-person reports to know something's off. Reno and Rude never made it up to the reactor, but there's definitely something going on up there. Whatever happens, stay with the group. No splitting up, no wandering off-"

"We don't need a briefing," said Genesis.

Cloud shrugged. "Fine. But I don't want to get up there and have you two running around like madmen. We should try to be as organized as possible."

"Don't be a snob, Genesis. Cloud is right." Sephiroth was checking his materia- and Tifa appeared to be quite interested. She was leaning forward, watching intently. "We should do this in an orderly fashion to avoid any unnecessary problems." He finished his check and raised an eyebrow at Tifa. "Can I help you?"

"Just wondering what you've got on you," she said innocently.

"Genesis has never enjoyed the briefing process," he said to Cloud. "It's best to ignore him when his ego gets in the way."

"Okay," Cloud said, uncomfortable with the menace sticking up for him. He would never get used to this. Never. And lurking beneath the surface of his mind was the blistering hate, the desire to see Sephiroth destroyed, blood everywhere...

"Let's go." Tifa straightened her hat. "We don't want to run out of daylight up there."


	17. Dead Giveaway

** A/N: Oh the trouble this chapter caused me. As per usual, sorry for the wait, thanks for the feedback (I re-read reviews when I'm feeling unmotivated, it does wonders. I love you all), and I hope you enjoy this chapter in all its' bumbling glory.**

* * *

**Chapter #17**

**Dead Giveaway**

They were at the mouth of a cave when they encountered their first real problem, and it was Sephiroth who caught on first. Before any of them were aware of the danger he pulled his sword out and moved closer to Tifa. The ground below them trembled, the quiet but steady drum of a tail beating against stone could be heard, echoing around them eerily. The air seemed charged with electricity. She wasn't sure whether that was from the obvious danger that lie ahead or because she could now feel the heat from Sephiroth being so close to her.

"Dragon," he said.

Nanaki moved forward, illuminating the cavern's entrance. It was the shortest route to the reactor, and Tifa knew it well enough, but she was starting to second-guess herself. Maybe they ought to take the long way around, avoiding the cave system.

"No problem." Cloud came forward as well, edging closer to her.

They were starting to give her a headache, those two. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go without saying something. The closer Sephiroth was to her, the more attentive Cloud became. She remembered a certain time, not very long ago, when Cloud being attentive would have thrilled her to the core. But not now. He'd been absent so much lately, gone for long periods of time and acting distant even when he was around, that she just wasn't used to his company anymore.

Genesis, who'd been a ball of barely-contained energy the entire trek, bounced ahead of them with his sword drawn. Sephiroth gave Tifa a look that bordered on apologetic, and followed his fellow ex-SOLDIER into the dark.

"Cloud," she whispered, "can you relax, just a little? He's not going to hurt me."

"How do I know that?" he whispered back. "What if he loses it? He doesn't have the best track record, does he?"

She had to agree with him on that. "People change, though," she said. "Should we... go after them?"

"I think they are more than capable," Nanaki said.

A thunderous roar seemed to shake the cavern, and a burst of brilliant orange light flashed over them. Tifa automatically ducked, covering her head with her arms. When she looked up Cloud was pulling his sword out and venturing forward with a determined look on his face. She wasn't two steps behind him when Sephiroth returned to her side. "That was fast," she said, feeling quite left out.

"Just a dragon." He sheathed his blade nonchalantly and brushed invisible dirt off of his shoulder. She had a feeling he was playing it up a bit.

"Where is our lovely guide?" Genesis came wandering out of the darkness, sword dangling casually in his hand. "Left or right, my dear?"

"Left." She tried to focus on what lay ahead, but Sephiroth had placed his hand on the small of her back to urge her onward, and the simple gesture was distracting. The heat from his palm sank into her skin pleasantly. He looked so normal in civilian clothing- a dark grey sweater and black trousers. Normal and... handsome. She should not be thinking that way. Not at the moment. There were...

"Something's wrong." He wrapped an arm around her and gripped his sword once more. "I can feel it..."

Tifa shivered despite being pressed against his warm, solid body. She felt it as well, an ominous sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She allowed herself the comfort of leaning against him. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"URGHH!"

She bounced forward without thinking, reacting solely on the sound of Cloud's voice- she could never stand the thought of him hurting- and barrelled right into an unyielding body. The smell of rotten meat invaded her nose and she staggered back, revolted, bile rising in her throat in response to the stench and the slimy, scaly thing her hands had touched. She raised her leg and kicked the thing, sending it sprawling to the ground; it made a low grunting noise and came up with yellow teeth bared, a face that was a mockery of a human face, gaunt and grey, piercing mako-infused eyes. Like something out of a nightmare. It lunged at her and she kicked it down again, repeatedly, stomping on it, her hiking boot making a sickening squelching sound. Thick black liquid sprayed out of its mouth and splattered across her face. She screamed automatically, and jerked away from whatever suddenly gripped her elbow.

"It's quite dead." Sephiroth held her arm firmly, and somehow the simple contact eased the shock out of her. He reached out and seized the edge of Genesis's extravagant cape, pulling the fabric up to her face and cleaning the stinging black fluid off of her skin.

"Thanks." She looked away, embarrassed for overreacting.

Cloud rushed up to her, sword out and dripping sticky fluid. "More of them," he said, "a lot more. Up ahead. We should turn around."

"We don't have enough daylight to take the long way around." Sephiroth kept his hand on her arm despite Cloud.

"Not a problem," Genesis said, yanking his cape out of Sephiroth's hand. "Thank you for that."

The ex-SOLDIER shrugged his large shoulders and watched Cloud, waiting for an answer. Tifa nearly jumped out of her skin when Cid and Vincent popped up on her left. "Don't do that!" she hissed at Vincent.

"Did I frighten you?"

"_Look_ at that thing." She pointed at the corpse of the monster she'd given a stomping to.

"Mako-showers and Jenova injections," he said.

She shuddered and slipped her hand into Sephiroth's. And realized belatedly just how insensitive her and Vincent's words had been. She glanced at Sephiroth, but he was still watching Cloud, a stoic expression on his face. His grip on her hand tightened. She stared at the dead thing, the monster that had once been human, and had a sudden, violent recollection of being pinned to an operating table, one hand running up her thigh. A vial of black fluid and the intent in the scientist's eyes. She shuddered again and swallowed. "It's not fair. That... used to be a human being..."

Sephiroth released her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I don't think it would be wise to leave them," he glanced at the ruined body on the ground, "wandering around up here. Let's carry on. Left, Cloud."

Nanaki moved with Cloud, illuminating the blackness and providing a guiding light for him as he ventured forward. The soft plunk of dripping water hitting stone echoed around them, the only noise besides the quiet shuffle of footsteps and Cid's slightly asthmatic breathing.

"I can't believe I got roped into this shit," he said.

"You're bluffing," Vincent answered.

"I ain't bluffing, I'm-"

"Whining."

"Hey-"

Vincent pulled his gun from its holster and fired a shot over Cloud's shoulder. Cloud glanced back at the gunman, eyebrows raised. "What the hell was that?"

"Another failed experiment." Vincent's voice was dangerously deadpan.

"Stay back here," Sephiroth said to Tifa, stepping forward with his blade raised.

She had to purse her lips to stop herself telling him off. She managed to bite her tongue for only a moment, though, before the retort came. "I'm not going to stand around being useless. I've been in worse situations and came out fine without you around, you know."

"That's irrelevant. You don't _know_ what situation you're in." He paused for a moment, then added quietly, "You needed me in Icicle."

Her pride was getting the best of her and she knew it, but she was frightened for him and that fear was toying with her common sense. Common sense told her he was just looking out for her. "Don't tell me what to do."

He ignored her, which only served to irritate her even further. She followed him into the darkness, her hands curled into fists and ready to fight. It was too quiet. She shifted around uncomfortably and jumped when she heard the sound of a sword cutting through flesh. Her hand shot out automatically and latched onto Sephiroth's arm. He looked down at her, and she stared back at him unabashedly.

"It's too dark in here," she said.

"Sephiroth, I don't suppose you could give me a hand, could you?" Genesis called from up ahead in the darkness.

They made their way slowly through the cave system, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in single-file. They lost Cid for three minutes and it took Nanaki to find him, smoking a cigarette and resting against a boulder. He was unapologetic.

"This is goddamn exhausting, poking around up here," he said.

"Exhausting?" Genesis wiped at the gore splattered across his chest. "You aren't even doing anything."

"You're young, you can handle it."

"Well what about him? He's got more grey hair than you do." Genesis pointed at Sephiroth.

"My hair is silver, as it's always been."

Tifa clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.

The long trek up to the reactor was more gruelling than she'd remembered, mostly because they were repeatedly attacked by mutated, brainless monsters that seemed to come trickling down the mountainside in a slow but steady stream. She hoped they were brainless. Their dead mako eyes and the snarling, slobbering noises coming out of their twisted mouths- God, she hoped they weren't even remotely human on the inside.

But they had been regular people, people just like her, not too long ago. How could a man do that to another man? And what was the reason behind it? Science for the sake of science? Madness and mayhem, just because he could? It must be a powerful feeling, playing God, but she couldn't imagine wanting the power to turn a human into a monster.

How many missing persons reports had Reeve counted?

"It's been shut down," Genesis said as they approached the metal stairs leading into the mako reactor.

"Of course. All of the reactors are. Shinra's in the process of dismantling them." Cloud scanned the area, his eyes catching the afternoon sun and gleaming aquamarine for a brief moment. "Come with me," he said to Sephiroth, who readily followed him for a walk around the perimeter of the reactor.

Tifa found a relatively flat rock and sat herself down to loosen her hiking boots for a few minutes. Her feet were sore and sweaty from the trek, and the fading blister that had broken out on her right foot when Sephiroth had dragged her from Icicle to Bone Village felt like it was coming back. She was pathetically out of shape, to the point where it was embarrassing.

Vincent sat beside her, his cape fluttering elegantly in the bitterly cold wind. He held his pistol in his good hand, his finger curled around the trigger. He pulled out his phone with his free hand and checked it for the third time since they'd left the town.

"Waiting for a call?" Tifa asked him.

"Yes."

"There's no service up here."

He stared at her for a moment, considering, his ruby eyes emotionless and his expression unreadable. "You're troubled."

She looked away, knowing he would see it written all over her face. "Who's supposed to be calling you?"

"Reeve."

Of course. In his own way, Vincent was a workaholic. He always answered Reeve's calls and never turned down assignments. Sometimes he even volunteered to take on more. She understood the need to work, to keep busy and fill the endless hours with something productive. But she worried about him. He deserved to live, to have something more than just a job.

"Does he have news?"

"In a way."

She watched Cloud and Sephiroth walk back towards them from behind the reactor. The former enemies looked calm, and seemed to be fairly at ease with each other, but she noticed that neither of them put their swords away. "Vincent?"

He didn't respond but she knew she had his attention.

"The more I see, the less I understand," she whispered.

"That's not unusual."

"Is it right to kill those monsters?"

"You've killed people who threatened your life. It's no different."

"But maybe it is. People understand the difference between right and wrong. You understand that shooting a person for no reason is murder. They don't understand, and it's not their fault that they don't understand. They were used, and mutilated, and for what purpose?"

Vincent holstered his gun and rested his hand on her shoulder. He so rarely made physical contact with anyone- she knew he truly wanted to comfort her. "You're looking for absolutes where there are none, Tifa. Right and wrong aren't always so clear. You know that." He looked down at her and she thought his eyes softened just a bit, though his expression remained impassive. "Don't be so harsh on yourself."

"All clear," Cloud said. "Let's get this over with. This place gives me the creeps."

"Agreed," muttered Sephiroth, looking around with a new wariness in his eyes. His discomfort seemed to grow as they neared the reactor.

Cid stopped several feet from the metal stairs leading into the reactor. "I'll stay out here."

"As will I," Nanaki said.

Cloud nodded. "Keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

Sephiroth's eyes flickered to Tifa, but she beat him to the punch. "I'm not staying here."

He scowled at her, pressing his hand against the left side of his lower back as though in pain. "Fine."

She laced up her boots and joined him at the foot of the stairs, hovering near his burly shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes."

The short, icy answer caught her off-guard. She looked up at him, studying his face closely. Something had changed in the past five minutes, but she'd been so caught up in her feet- and her thoughts on science- that she'd completely missed it. Cloud looked the same as he did five minutes ago, tense but calm. She felt Genesis watching her, and glanced at him with a confused frown.

"It seems quite deserted," he said, brushing past all of them and climbing the steps up to the reactor His footsteps were loud, metallic and ringing, and his cape fluttered behind him elegantly; he looked every bit the SOLDIER he had been. And that lone black wing poking out from under the red fabric of his cape.

She debated for a moment whether to pester Sephiroth or let it go, and decided to let it go. She'd pushed him enough these past few days, probably far out of any comfort zone he'd ever known. He could be extremely hot-tempered, and she certainly didn't want to provoke him. Still, she touched his shoulder as she passed him and followed Genesis up the stairs.

The reactor was not entirely shut down. The bare bones of it were still running, to avoid a disaster like the one that happened in Gongaga years ago. Shutting down a reactor completely wasn't a simple process. Plenty could go wrong. Something could malfunction. The core might explode from the shock of the machinery being instantly turned off. They had to be powered down, the extractors had to be slowly and carefully withdrawn, and so on. Only the backup generator was left here in the Nibelheim reactor- it kept the lights on, but that was about it. Still, it was enough to give a scientist a source of power.

It was eerie without the soft growl of machinery running, the beeping noises and the occasional bellow from the belly of the reactor. The dim red emergency lights cast shadows everywhere and the only sounds were the soft shuffling footsteps of Vincent, Cloud, and Sephiroth behind her. She took the arm Genesis offered her as they stepped onto the walkway that crossed over the reactor's glowing core.

"Too quiet," Cloud murmured.

The familiar tightening in her throat as she crossed the cold metal floor where her father had been cut down. She swallowed, found Genesis' arm wasn't quite as comforting as Sephiroth's, and followed the redhead through the doorway into the antechamber. A hand touching her shoulder made her jump.

Sephiroth leaned forward, his lips hovering inches from her ear. "Tifa..."

She wanted to say something, but couldn't get any words past the lump in her throat.

"Sorry," he whispered.

She shook her head and leaned back against his chest, letting him support her weight. It seemed the right thing to do. His hands fell on her shoulders and he squeezed her gently.

"Empty," Cloud said.

The mako chambers lining the walls were all empty. Pools of liquid lay undisturbed under the pods, glowing green in the dim light. Vincent sidestepped around her and walked up the stairway leading into the other room, his gun drawn and ready. Genesis followed him quietly. She was aware of Cloud hovering somewhere behind them, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. She focused instead on the warm hands massaging her shoulders.

The short, sharp retort of gunfire went off, and Cloud made a soft groaning noise behind her. Sephiroth turned, sword out and ready, and stared down at the man crumpled on the floor.

"Cloud!" Tifa rushed forward and fell to her knees. "Where is it? Where are you hit?"

He lifted his head and stared at her blearily before closing his eyes. Sephiroth crouched next to her and pulled Cloud's head forward, exposing the back of his neck. Something small and feather-tipped was stuck right at the base of his skull.

"Get down!"

She found herself airborne, thrown aside by Sephiroth, hitting the floor with her shoulder and rolling several times until she made contact with the far wall. Another shot fired off, the sound amplified by the small room. Her ears filled with a dull ringing and she scrambled to her feet desperately, her muscles tensing in anticipation, her fingers curling into fists.

Sephiroth staggered out of the antechamber drunkenly, his hand going to his neck, his other hand gripping his sword. The squeal of metal on metal pierced her ears as the tip of his sword dragged along the floor. Cloud lay motionless on the floor where he'd collapsed. Her shoulder smarting from the impact, Tifa searched her materia quickly and cast a cure spell on him from where she was. It seemed to work for a brief moment; he rolled onto his chest and tried to lift himself up, but fell back instantly, his eyes closing. From the adjacent room where Jenova had once been stored, Vincent rolled out and did a back-flip, landing cleanly at the bottom of the stairs. His head snapped to the right and he gave her a cursory look.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Tranquilizers," he said, reaching down and yanking the dart out of Cloud's neck. "They were waiting for us. Genesis is down as well." He rushed out of the antechamber after Sephiroth.

Tifa tried to collect herself, rotating her shoulder to ease the pain and cracking her knuckles to loosen them. She recognized the sound of Vincent's gun firing, and went after him with her fists raised. "How many?" she asked, hiding behind him to stay out of the line of fire. She was useless in this situation, not having a long-range weapon or anything other than her fists to take out their attackers.

"Only one now," he said calmly, swinging his arm around and firing again.

A black-clothed figure fell from a walkway above, plummeting into the reactor core, his rifle falling after him.

Sephiroth had fallen to his knees and appeared to be putting up a valiant fight against the tranquilizers he'd been hit with. She crouched beside him and laid her palm against his cheek. His eyes were glazed and dull, but he looked up at her when she touched his face.

"You okay?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes, slumping forward. She caught him and gently eased him onto the floor. "Vincent, what do we do?"

Before he could answer she felt a sharp twinge in her neck. The effect was instantaneous- the world fell away and she spiralled into unconsciousness.

* * *

She woke with no recollection of what had happened. The sensation was eerily familiar, though it took her a full minute to realize why.

Icicle. Waking up on an operating table, her memory wiped blank, her mind hazy like this, unable to string her thoughts together.

But her arms and legs were free. She moved them around just to make sure, relief sweeping through her as she rolled over and opened her eyes to find herself spread out on a bed.

"Tifa!"

She sat up slowly and found herself eye-to-eye with Yuffie Kisaragi. "Where am I?"

"Only the finest hotel in Nibelheim." Yuffie smiled and pressed a glass of water into her hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, for the most part." She drank the whole thing in one go and set the glass on the bedside table. "What happened?"

"You were ambushed up at the reactor. They used a short-acting tranquilizer to knock you out- God knows where they got the stuff, or who they were." Yuffie got up from the bed and took the glass into the bathroom before coming back and forcing it into Tifa's hand once more. "Probably Hojo's."

She took a drink and fell back against the pillows, closing her eyes wearily. "Where is everyone? What happened to them?" She wanted to ask about Sephiroth, but resisted the urge.

"Cloud and Cid are in the other room. Nanaki's fine too. Vincent got you out of there and went back for them."

She couldn't help it. She didn't care what Yuffie's opinion of him was, though it couldn't be favourable. "And Sephiroth?"

"Missing. Genesis Rhapsodos is gone, too."

She groaned. "Where's Vincent?"

"Downstairs with the Turks."

Tifa sat up once more and swung her feet off of the bed to get up. "The Turks are here?"

"Tseng and Elena."

She went downstairs despite Yuffie's protests that she should stay in bed, and found Vincent and the Turks sitting around a table, talking quietly amongst themselves. Elena saw her and straightened up, tapping Tseng's shoulder lightly.

He looked Tifa up and down coolly. The scar that ran from his temple to his jaw gleamed white. "You should be in bed."

"Vincent," she took the empty chair next to him and rested her elbows on the table, "where is he? What happened?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. His eyes were wide, troubled, his expression pained. Her stomach dropped to somewhere around her knees. It was bad, if Vincent was upset. Very bad.

"I'm... sorry, Tifa. What was that?" he asked.

She frowned, confused. "Where is Sephiroth?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

"Tifa, you really should be resting." Elena glanced at Tseng. "We're on Hojo's trail... we'll find him, don't worry about that."

Tifa leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temple. "Hojo took him."

Elena folded her scarred hands together and rested them on the table. "We have a lead-"

"Elena," Tseng interrupted sharply.

"Don't- don't act like you're still some big-time Turk! I have a right to know whatever you know! I'm a WRO agent, Tseng." Tifa slammed her fist on the table, rising from her chair and leaning forward. She didn't care that Elena was staring at her in amazement or that Vincent was lost in his own world, that her reaction was over-the-top and probably uncalled for.

He raised his scarred eyebrow. "Relax, Tifa. I simply don't want Elena giving you false hope. The truth is we don't know where Sephiroth or Genesis is. We know Professor Hojo has men working for him, men we can safely assume he's recruited recently. He may not have been in Nibelheim at all. We don't know."

She resented him for his detached attitude. Of all the Turks, he was the only one she truly disliked. Here he was, calm and professional, when Reno and Rude had nearly died yesterday. The Meteor crisis hadn't changed him in the slightest. His and Elena's ordeal with the remnants hadn't changed him either. "Vincent, can I borrow your phone?" she asked, sitting down slowly and fixing the Turk with a glare.

Vincent didn't answer. She turned to him and touched his elbow lightly. "Vincent, your phone?"

He looked up, seemingly startled to see her, and gave her his slim silver phone. She dialled Reeve's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Vincent, I told you Shelke is running the test again but the results-"

"It's Tifa," she said.

"Oh, Tifa." Reeve laughed nervously and cleared his throat. "How are you feeling? We've sent the tranquilizer darts to the lab for analysis. The results should be back in a few hours."

"I'm fine." She stood and walked to a table in the corner of the room, pulled out a chair and sat down. "Reeve... What do you know?"

"Aren't Tseng and Elena there?"

"Yeah, they're here."

He sighed, a soft crackling noise on the other line. "I know as much as they do, Tifa. Dreadfully little. We're sending out agents now that there's been an official attack involving weapons and multiple people."

"Oh, my kidnapping wasn't official?"

"I'm going to assume the tranquilizers have a rebound effect that's causing you to be a bit agitated."

"No, my friend missing and a mad scientist on the loose is causing me to be a bit agitated." She peeked at the Turks and Vincent and added in a whisper, "Is Vincent okay?"

"He will be, eventually. Just some rather shocking news. At any rate, I need all of you back here immediately."

"In Edge? No. Reeve-" she paused, struggling for the right words, "-I have to find Sephiroth. And Genesis, too. If Hojo has them... I can't even imagine..."

"Then you'll lead a squad of agents in the search. I'm sorry, Tifa, but we have to do this properly. This is the sort of thing people will pay attention to, to see how the WRO handles it, and it's important that the people trust the WRO. We have to have rules. Procedure."

She hated him for being right. "I know."

"I really hate to ask this of you, Tifa, but I'm going to need you to file a report-"

"You want me to come back and do paperwork?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"I hate you right now, Reeve."

"Would you rather we handle things the way Shinra used to? Under the table, no disclosure? Miss-communication and no cooperation amongst each other?"

"No."

"I have to go, Tifa. I really am sorry. I'm meeting Rufus Shinra in two minutes. I'll see you shortly, okay?"

"Okay." She shut the phone and gave it back to Vincent. He took it without looking at her, still wearing that alarming shell-shocked expression. Elena watched her as she sat down. "I'm sorry for losing my temper," she said. "I'm just-"

"No need to apologize," Tseng interrupted.

The morning passed in a blur after that. They boarded the airship and the Turks took off in their chopper. Nanaki was dropped off at Cosmo Canyon and they were on their way to Edge. Tifa sat on the observation deck and stared out at the endless blue ocean. Cloud tried to talk to her, but she found herself pushing him away with every attempt he made. Her friends talked amongst themselves and she didn't have the energy to join them.

Vincent sat beside her, but he may as well have been a ghost. She didn't try to talk to him. He didn't try to talk to her. But she felt a strange sort of solidarity with him, as they sat there staring at the point on the horizon where the sea and sky merged. She knew, somehow, that he was thinking about Sephiroth. She knew he was concerned for the other man. And she knew he understood her feelings for Sephiroth, better than anyone else did. Except perhaps Genesis.

But he was gone too.

Sephiroth, gone. And in his wake there was a void she hadn't expected, a reeling sense of having the ground ripped out from below, leaving her floundering helplessly.


	18. Trauma

**A/N: I hope this is the "everything makes sense now, sort-of" chapter.**

** I do so love getting kicked into high gear. Writing is funny that way. I can go a month adding maybe a hundred or so words per day, then suddenly I get the urge to crank out a chapter in 76 hours. Ah well.**

**Thank you as always for the feedback. I dedicate this chapter to Sorrow Has a Human Heart, for the wonderful review. Many thanks.**

**Have another chapter!**

**Peace **

* * *

**Chapter #18**

**Trauma**

...

_I remember this place_

_ Too much light..._

_ Can I move?_

"Stop that."

He licked his lips. His mouth felt fuzzy and dry, like cotton. That voice and the tone of it- for some reason he felt compelled to obey. Like he'd been doing this for years. Further back than his memory reached. Just laying here, still and silent, a machine buzzing somewhere near his left ear.

_Good boy_

"Oh dear. Interesting. Your DNA seems to be doing some very interesting things."

Images danced through his brain. People in white coats. Needles. Lots of injections. Tissue samples. They hurt the worst. Big, thick needles going into his abdomen, his back, his chest, withdrawn slowly, taking a piece of his liver or his kidneys or his lungs. He had back problems from lying on metal tables all the time. He was four years old and his back hurt. A lady who smelled like peppermint used to sit with him on a sofa and flash cards at him, and he would answer her promptly, thinking it was some sort of test he had to pass.

_It looks like a train. _

_ A bird._

_ It looks like hair._

"Have you been vomiting?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

One day she brought an important man with her. He was fat and blond and reeked of excess, with his fat stomach and fine shoes.

_ ..._

_ "... developing normally."_

_ "How would you like to go to school?" The fat man leaned forward and smiled._

_ He said he would like that, he would really really like that._

"Are you eating?"

"No." He opened his eyes and stared up at the blank grey ceiling. How many times had he woken up flat on his back like this? IV in his left hand. Monitors beeping and whirring. He shifted his shoulders and tried to sit up, but couldn't. He was too weak. The simple effort exhausted him and he slumped back down on the table.

"It's a short-acting paralytic. For you, of course, it's not nearly as effective. You retain some muscle control. A normal human would be paralysed." Hojo peered at him over his round glasses. "I'm still upset with you for cutting off my hand." He waggled a metallic finger back and forth. "Not very nice."

"Go to hell." He closed his eyes and worked around the drugs, retreating into his mind, looking for that black space he knew was there. It was harder to find lately. He hadn't looked for it in awhile. But he found it, and sank into blissful detachment.

_Come here._

_ Join me._

"I should have taken more precautions last time I had you. Science is forgiving that way. One can always go back and see what went wrong."

He felt a soaring sensation, a light-headed feeling that swamped him. It was a balancing act, he decided. Enough madness to make it happen, but the sanity to rise above it. He kept his mouth shut but the word slipped out anyway-

"Mother..."

"We all cry for our mothers in the end, don't we?"

The picture in his pocket of a young woman sitting at a piano. He'd stolen it. "You're a liar."

Hojo laughed. "You've been fed some troubling information indeed, haven't you? Yes, I lied to you. The whole world lied to you. And I lied to them. What did you expect? Nobody would have agreed to go through with the Jenova Project if they'd known the facts. We wouldn't have gotten the funding we did. You wouldn't be alive."

He cut off his reply, retreating again. He had no parents. Only a benign force that gave him life and strength, over and over and over again. He needed his reunion, to take all of that hatred and power and have it be his. Not scattered about the way it was. He felt like he was drowning. He panicked and flailed. "Tell me something, Professor."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Why Tifa Lockhart?"

"Oh, that. It was really a matter of convenience. Imagine my surprise when they brought me not just you, but her as well. I'd only mentioned needing a viable female specimen once. They took it upon themselves to procure her. They were good men. A pity the Turk shot most of them."

Sephiroth opened his eyes and looked up at Hojo. "Does life mean nothing to you?"

_"That's all my life is worth to you, isn't it? Something to use..."_

He jerked his head back and forth to shake her soft voice from his mind. No, he wasn't like that. Had been. Not anymore. But he used them now, Cloud and Genesis, anyone else who might come forward to give their life up for him. That unwavering dedication that only Jenova could incur.

_Come. Be with me. Be whole._

_ "It never occurred to you that human life has value?" _

"How quaint, you've gotten sentimental."

He hadn't realized he'd spoken Tifa Lockhart's words out loud. "What do you mean by convenience?"

Hojo smiled. It was a smile of pity. "You don't remember. You've always had a very selective memory."

He'd forgotten what rage felt like. It came to him now, blistering anger, the need to gut this man, see the blood splatter everywhere. This man would throw Tifa Lockhart's life away without a second thought. But in the midst of his anger- his hands trembled and his adrenaline had shot up- he realized he hated the feeling. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes again and turned his head away from the scientist. "Tell me, why Tifa Lockhart?"

"My men were following you, as ordered. Do you know where you led them?"

Sephiroth shook his head. He felt suddenly weary from the energy and effort it took to acknowledge the sentient viral cells inside him and to call out for others. He felt drained, dirty, confused. The familiar sickness was stirring in his stomach again, only this time he was painfully aware that she would not be here to pull his hair away from his face and rub his back, rest her cool palm against his feverish cheek. He would get no comforting words here. No sympathy for weakness- indeed, no allowance for it.

"You were prowling around Edge. Seventh Heaven, to be exact. I wondered what in the world you were doing there- of course, you were after Cloud Strife, weren't you?"

"No." He saw himself walking down a dark, quiet side-street, the crisp night air invigorating him. And he knew he could only be there for one thing.

"This may hurt a bit." Hojo held up a syringe with his good hand. The tip of the needle caught the light and flashed briefly before he sank it into Sephiroth's shoulder and pushed down on the plunger slowly.

He could feel the liquid seeping into his muscles. The pressure of it burned his shoulder and he had to grit his teeth to stop from crying out. He hated giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing they hurt him. He let go of any thought the pain brought to his mind, and asked coolly, "What is it?"

"Just something to speed things along. You'll be feeling much sicker soon- don't be alarmed. That's to be expected."

"Speed what along?" He felt he was teetering on the edge of something. A realization, perhaps. Or madness. Black, pulsing madness, sweet and poisonous. But he kept hearing her voice, her kind voice in his ear, telling him it was okay, he was allowed to be human. Allowed to be weak. He felt the ghost of her wrist pressing against his forehead.

"I need Jenova cells to carry out my next experiment. Unfortunately the cloned cells don't do very well- they tend to break down and act unpredictably, causing degradation amongst other things. So I'm afraid I have to harvest some from you." Hojo pulled the needle out and set it on a nearby tray. "I was in the process of doing so when you escaped. The injections are to break down your DNA so I can harvest Jenova's genetic matter in its purest form."

"What will that do to me?"

Hojo's eyebrows shot up. "I don't quite know."

Sephiroth closed his eyes once more and tried to do something he rarely attempted- he tried to go to sleep. Sleep never came easy for him. Not now, not when he was a child. He had nightmares. It embarrassed him to wake up slick with cold sweat and shaking with fear. During the war in Wutai, though he'd had his own private tent, there were many nights when a soldier or messenger would invade his sleeping space and wake him from a nightmare. He would see their surprise and sometimes amusement. They thought it was funny that he had bad dreams. The great Sephiroth, the war hero, in the grip of some nightmare, fear and pain written all over his face.

He remembered it vividly now. He remembered the excitement building as he neared Seventh Heaven. _Kill Cloud Strife_. The command repeated over and over in his mind, like a mantra. And then his mind drew a blank, as though that particular part of his memory had been wiped clean. He'd woken up suspended in liquid and staring out at the most bizarre scene- Professor Hojo bustling around, and Tifa Lockhart strapped down to an operating table. He'd been in pain, and the pain had escalated until he was thrashing about futilely while listening to Hojo and the young woman as she came to.

...

_"Don't worry, the procedure won't be a very painful one. In fact, it could potentially be very pleasant, though I doubt you'll be cooperative enough to enjoy it. Then there is only nine months of waiting, and your life __will be over. Once the pregnancy is confirmed..."_

_ "Pregnancy?"_

_ "... I will be able to inject the fetus with the cells."_

_..._

"Why?" he muttered, more to himself than Hojo. The scientist didn't answer. Louder, then. "I see where I inherited my mental illness."

Hojo laughed. He laughed so hard he doubled over, one arm wrapping around his middle. "What a ridiculous idea- not that I'm surprised. You never showed much interest in science. But your ignorance is sad. You didn't inherit your mental state from me."

"This isn't science. This is playing God... and doing it poorly." He stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder and the burning sensation that began to bubble up somewhere in his abdomen. He retreated into himself once more, this time determined not to be drawn out again. The part of his mind that was dark and unfathomable, like a deep, still pool of water, the surface reflective as black glass. Like flipping a switch or pulling a trigger, he found it and got lost.

A small, faint voice seemed to whisper in his right ear, over and over again-

_"Don't let him get to you..."_

* * *

For five agonizing days she got sucked up in the firestorm of controversy as the media reported on the WRO's latest activity. For five long days she alternated between writing and filing and sorting reports, and stepping outside the headquarters to give brief one-liners to journalists as she squeezed past them to get to a taxi.

For five days she went to the WRO headquarters at 8:00 in the morning and left fourteen hours later. She refused to read the morning paper. Cloud would pace around the kitchen and read the headlines to her, despite her protests.

Rufus Shinra, cool as a cucumber, went on record stating Shinra was cooperating fully and with total transparency. Yes, a former Shinra-employed scientist was performing illicit human experiments. No, he was not endorsed by the company- quite the contrary. Yes, the former Shinra SOLDIER Sephiroth was confirmed to be quite alive. Shinra and the WRO were investigating. When information became available it would be shared with the public.

S.W.A.T teams were assembled. Briefings were given.

This was a highly sensitive operation.

That sentiment was reiterated over and over again.

All the while, Vincent Valentine secluded himself in an office and refused to speak to anyone. Yuffie brought him meals and coffee, tried to talk to him but was rebuked with frosty silence. She took her frustration out on Reeve, who in turn took his frustration out on himself and started to work sixteen-hour days. Tifa tried to get him to slow down but it was an impossible task. He would take a break after one more phone call. One more interview. He would go home after he filed one more report. She gave up on him after three days.

On the sixth day Vincent showed up at her apartment early in the morning, just as she poured her first cup of coffee. Cloud was still asleep.

"Get your things," he said.

Tifa looked up at him through the tendrils of steam rising from her coffee and drifting past her face. "Huh?"

He stared back at her for a moment before taking the chair opposite of hers. "I think I know where Hojo is."

"Did you tell Reeve?"

"No." He lowered his eyes. "No, I didn't tell Reeve."

"He's right, you know. We need to do this by the books."

Vincent lifted his gaze to her face again, and she was amazed by the anger in his eyes. Amazed and intimidated. "I don't care anymore. I don't care about protocol, Tifa. The last time I went against my gut feeling, I paid for it. I thought you would understand... that you would want to help him."

Tifa bit her lower lip and took a long, deep drink. The hot liquid scorched her tongue and throat and she winced. "Sephiroth? Of course I want to help him. It's driving me crazy, just hanging around listening to other people talk about what can and can't be done. I don't even want to think about what he might be going through..."

Vincent threw a file across the table at her. "Read it," he snapped.

She set her mug down. In the nearly four years she'd known him, she'd never seen Vincent like this. Emotional. Almost irrational. "What's wrong with you? What are you so upset about?"

"Read it."

She sighed and flipped the folder open. The sheaf of paper in it looked like a standard DNA test. Subject A, Subject B. Her eyes went to the bottom of the page. Positive match. "Vincent, I don't know what this is."

"It's a DNA test."

"I know that." Her patience wavered and she frowned at him. "What is it about?"

He looked away, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "It was... she was drunk, I think. I was sleeping. She came into my room- it was very brief."

Tifa's eyes were drawn again to the bottom of the page. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucrecia. Her child." His voice wavered, then cracked.

And she understood. "Oh."

"She never told me. I know why... it would have ruined her career. But-"

"Oh, Vincent..." she moaned, slumping back in her chair. Some people got all the bad luck in the world when they didn't deserve any of it. She had to wonder if there wasn't some ill-humoured higher power just toying with people's lives for the sheer, cruel fun of it all. Poor Vincent. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He leaned forward and touched her hand. The simple gesture scandalized her- it was another first from Vincent. A violent display of emotions, and reaching out to someone, touching them. "I won't repeat the same mistake. I left him to the mercy of that maniac once before, but I won't do it again. Not this time, Tifa. Not my son."

She swallowed the rest of her coffee and did her best to collect herself. She rose and looked down at him. "You should have said something six days ago, Vincent. I'll get my things- give me three minutes." No S.W.A.T team, no paperwork, not a whisper of where they were going- just a quiet ambush, a secret rescue. It felt right to do it this way; Hojo obviously had people ready and willing to do his dirty work, and it wasn't inconceivable that he was following their plans while they were trying to track him down.

She gathered her things in her knapsack, packing several healing potions and antidotes along with her materia. He might be hurt. Her mind flashed to her own experience, pinned and helpless and at the mercy of a mad scientist. She shuddered. He hated science, hated human experiments. Hated himself, probably, for being one. And he thought Hojo was his biological father. No wonder he'd been so lost.

"Ready?" she asked Vincent.

He nodded. They exited her apartment and she locked the door behind her.

Upstairs in his room, Cloud slept undisturbed.

"Nice," she said when she saw the motorcycle parked by the curb.

Vincent shrugged. "I moved the _Tiny Bronco_ last night. It's parked outside Kalm."

"Where are we going?"

"Banora. Or rather, what's left of it."

She buried her face against his red cape as they tore down the quiet street and turned onto the main highway leading out of the city. Vincent wasted no time dawdling- forty minutes later they were in Kalm. The bike attracted the attention of several villagers, early risers wandering around the sleepy town, out for their morning stroll.

They did a mad dash to the _Tiny Bronco_ parked on the beach. This time she slid into the driver's seat before Vincent could, and gave him a stubborn look when he opened his mouth. "I never get to drive," she said.

They hugged the coastline and backtracked towards Edge. Her cellphone began to go off; she glanced at the caller I.D. Cloud. Then Reeve. Cloud again. Yuffie. Vincent elected to shut his own phone off, then took hers and shut it off as well. "Tracers," he muttered.

"Do you think Genesis was taken too?"

He looked out at the vast expanse of water, his ruby eyes lost. "I don't know. Maybe."

"He would have come back if he'd escaped," she said, more to herself than him. "But what would Hojo want with him? What would he want with Sephiroth, for that matter? In Icicle he told me I was his most... valuable specimen."

"I've no idea," Vincent said absently.

She tiled her head and glanced at him. "Vincent?"

"Mm?"

She felt silly for asking, but couldn't help herself. "Are you okay?"

He finally turned his head to look at her. He'd recovered his stoic expression, but she saw the turbulent emotions blazing in his eyes. "If I had known... if I'd even suspected she was carrying _my_ child..." He faltered and lowered his eyes.

Tifa placed her hand on his shoulder gently. He'd come so far, made leaps and bounds in forgiving himself, letting go of the past, and now this. It was so unfair. There was no other way to put it. "You couldn't have known."

"I should have, though." He met her gaze again, his expression faltering.

She shook her head. "No. Don't think like that. You can't change the past. The past doesn't matter anyway. The future matters." She swallowed and choked up, her eyes growing damp, and struggled to keep her composure.

Vincent startled her by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her against him. "We'll make it right," he said softly.

She liked that. She liked the idea of working with Vincent, making things right with him. But she couldn't help comparing him with Sephiroth now. And it was so obvious. So glaringly obvious, it stared her right in the face and mocked her. The delicate features, the stoicism, the deceptively detached attitude. And she wondered if Sephiroth shared Vincent's devotion, his capacity to love one woman so completely, so unselfishly.

She wondered if he could love her.

* * *

_Mother..._

He jerked his arms and legs. He was suspended in some viscous liquid. It burned his skin like acid. A sweet voice rang in his ears, in his brain-

_Come, join me._

_ Be with Mother..._

He opened his eyes and stared out at the green-tinted world, at his friend and comrade strapped to a metal table. Torture. He was witnessing torture.

For the first two days Sephiroth did nothing but shriek and writhe helplessly. Then he went still and silent. He hadn't moved for four days.

Dead?

All the while, that sweet siren voice-

_Join me..._

_ Be with me.. with Mother..._

Hojo stopped in front of him and studied him curiously for a moment. Genesis flashed him a very rude gesture with his finger.

"Poor, poor failure," the scientist said, then turned around and meandered slowly back to Sephiroth.

He thrashed about helplessly, his skin on fire.

* * *

He felt it resonate right down to his bones. He recognized it for what it was- the Reunion theory in action. Sephiroth's command for those with Jenova cells to join him, to help him. It had never been this strong before.

He woke up to a silent, empty apartment, rolled out of bed and rushed into the kitchen. The coffee maker was still on.

"Tifa?"

No answer.

Cloud showered and got dressed for the day. He had two cups of coffee and a light breakfast, polished his sword and organized his materia. He wanted to be mad at Tifa for leaving without him- somehow he knew she'd gone to find Sephiroth- but he just couldn't find the energy for anger. And he understood, in a way, why she'd gone. She didn't answer her phone, so he gave up after the third attempt and went down to the garage to get his bike. He would go to the WRO... No, that was a waste of time. He would go after Sephiroth.

He stood next to his bike and stared at the cement floor, his mind wandering.

Tifa and Sephiroth.

He felt betrayed, but more than that he felt torn. If anyone in this world understood him, it was Tifa. She knew, she had seen it and lived through it with him, had sat up with him during those long nights after the Meteor crisis, listening to him, talking. They'd lost their hometown together. Both of them had gone after Sephiroth for revenge. Both had nearly died- she had the scar to prove it.

She missed Aerith, too.

So he felt compelled to agree with Tifa. They shared everything with each other.

None of them were saints. Vincent was a former Turk; he'd watched the Jenova Project unfold in front of him and did nothing about it, though he knew it was wrong. Reeve with all his meddling and spying, kidnapping Marlene, working for Shinra. Even Barret had his black spots.

Cloud touched the scar on his arm, the faint mark Geostigma had left on him. Yes, they all had their sins. And they were spending the rest of their lives in repentance. Rufus Shinra, whose organization was responsible for most, if not all, of the Meteor crisis, now funded the organization responsible for fixing what the Shinra Electric Power Company had done. Wasn't that the point, after all? Learn from your mistakes, and do better. Sephiroth might have a burden heavier than the world resting on his shoulders, but he was trying. He was doing better.

Cloud wheeled his bike out of the garage and into the bright summer morning. The polluted air that used to hang over Midgar had gradually drifted through Edge, slowly dispersing over time. Three years on, the crystalline sky and fresh, clean air lifted his spirits and untangled his mind. A young woman turned the corner at the end of the street and came towards him, pushing a stroller in front of her. She was whistling. He smiled at her as she passed by.

"Good morning," he said.

"Isn't it?" She smiled at him, smiled down at her baby, and carried on down the street.

He started his bike and sat there motionless for a moment, waiting. It came like a spasm, a muscle contraction of some kind, only he felt it in his mind. Stronger than ever before. He shuddered.


	19. Before the Beginning

** A/N: Maybe this is the chapter where everything makes sense, sort of. I don't know. Sorry it took so long. My plot execution is just terrible, I know. Anyway, here is my best effort. I hope it satisfies. Thank you for the lovely feedback. It's always wonderful motivation for me when I get a review. Please enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter #19**

** Before the Beginning**

"I want you to follow Cloud. All of you. Take the chopper." Rufus leaned back into his leather chair and looked each Turk in the eye, gauging their individual reactions. Reno and Rude had taken quite a beating in Nibelheim but it appeared they were fully recovered. Somebody had used a powerful cure spell on both of them. Elena fidgeted with her hands. Tseng gazed back at him calmly.

"Of course," he said.

"This is, at it's heart, a Shinra matter. I understand Reeve's position, of course, but we must take into consideration the delicacy of this situation. The company can't take any more bad press. I won't tolerate the public using Shinra as a scapegoat. You will follow Cloud- I assume he will lead you to Sephiroth and Professor Hojo. You will bring me that madman- alive, please. Destroy any evidence of his actions-"

"Which madman, the scientist or Sephiroth?" Reno asked wryly.

"The scientist, Reno. As for Sephiroth..." Rufus flicked his hair out of his eyes and shrugged. "Bring him in if you can, but take him to the WRO."

"Tifa Lockhart and Vincent Valentine are missing," said Rude.

"I know. Presumably they've gone after Sephiroth. I wonder what would motivate Valentine to move without the WRO's approval?" Rufus inspected his fingernails carefully before looking up at Reno and Rude. "Perhaps something personal?"

"I would assume," Tseng said quietly. "We have a file on Vincent Valentine, of course. Former Turk, assigned to the Jenova Project in Nibelheim."

Rufus waved his hand dismissively. He was familiar with Valentine's past. "And Tifa? Not very characteristic of her to abandon her teammates in favour of acting on her own."

"No idea there," Reno said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his rumpled blue jacket. "I think she's sorta.. friends, with Sephiroth."

Elena laughed. "Reno, that's absurd."

"They seem close," Rude said.

"Lockhart's relationship with Sephiroth hardly matters." Tseng crossed his arms over his chest. "We'll bring Hojo in, President."

Rufus nodded. "Good. Go now and keep in contact with me." They went to leave and he added, "Best of luck."

Reno flashed him a cocky grin. "Ain't nothing, Sir."

His office door swung shut with a soft click, and Rufus reclined in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He had a meeting with a suit from Corel about oil contracts. Oil contracts, of all things. Quotas and whatnot. He didn't sign up for actually running an energy company. The work was dreadfully dull. Negotiating prices and researching alternative energy sources.

Actually, the notion of solar energy was about the only thing that enthused him. He found it fascinating, that the sun might be able to provide electricity. So long as there was a way to sell it.

After his 9:00 meeting he would be going to the WRO headquarters. There would be complete chaos, with Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart, and Vincent Valentine missing. Rufus felt very sorry for Reeve. The man was constantly overworked and hadn't taken a day off for three years.

* * *

Tifa dropped onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms, peeking through the brambles at a black-clad man who paced back and forth about twenty metres from her. Vincent lay beside her, his gun held out in front of him, the end of the barrel following its target back and forth patiently. She saw it coming out of the corner of her eye; the gunman's shoulders suddenly relaxed, his arms became lax and his grip on the gun loosened. The world around her became silent, and the soft hiss of the bullet leaving its chamber was the only sound she heard as the pacing man fell. His arm twitched, but that was all.

Vincent lowered his gun, resting the barrel with its slim black silencer on the grass. "We should wait ten minutes," he murmured.

"Don't you think a dead guard might raise the alarm?"

He turned his head to look at her. His ruby eyes were grim. "It will if I miss."

She nodded in understanding. It wasn't often she felt useless; she was a terrific martial artist and could hold her own against somebody twice her size, after all. But she was limited to hand-to-hand combat, and that had its drawbacks. Like now, for instance. She itched to do something, to take action, but Vincent's methods were safer and more likely to get them somewhere. They didn't know how many opponents they were going up against and she didn't want to find out the hard way.

Several minutes dragged by and nothing happened. Tifa was losing her patience. There were so close, and she desperately wanted to get to Sephiroth, to save him from whatever pain Hojo might be inflicting on him. He'd been through too much. She couldn't bear the thought of him suffering. "Vincent, please..."

He looked conflicted. "Another minute."

She couldn't do it. She crawled across the ground on her belly, kicking her foot free from Vincent's grasp and raising herself to a crouch.

"Tifa!"

"Now, Vincent."

He drew himself up beside her and stared out at the dead guard crumpled in a heap in front of the dilapidated building. Ironically enough, having that precaution had given Hojo's location away. They wouldn't have known where to look if not for that. "Stay behind me," he said.

She followed close behind him as he ducked through the doorway into an empty room. It looked like it had been a home at some point; there was an upturned table and a moth-eaten mattress in the far corner, but no sign of a secret lab anywhere. Maybe the guard had been a decoy.

"Vincent, something's not right-"

"The floorboards," he muttered, bending down and grabbing at the corner of a loose floorboard to tear it up. It made a loud grinding noise as he pulled it away to reveal a cellar door with a rusted ring for a handle. "There must be another way in, one only Hojo would know about." He kept his voice low and Tifa had to lean forward to hear him.

"Let's bust in," she whispered.

"We haven't thought this through very well." He lifted his crimson eyes to hers' and added, "Tifa... much as I want the pleasure of killing Hojo-"

"We should take him alive," she agreed. She didn't add that she too wanted the pleasure of killing the scientist. The thought frightened her. She wasn't a violent person, or even a very vengeful one. She avoided hurting people if she could. But this man had used Sephiroth, had hurt him and degraded him and driven him to madness. Sephiroth, who was never given the chance to live his life the way he wanted to. Everything planned for him, all for the sake of science. Hojo never cared about the SOLDIER program or Shinra. He had his own agenda.

Vincent nodded and aimed his gun at the cellar door as she grabbed the cold metal ring and yanked it open. Harsh white light burned her eyes and she had to blink rapidly to clear her vision. She remembered that brisk fluorescent light. She remembered it all too well.

"Stay behind me," he said, and jumped down.

Tifa scrambled after him recklessly. The light blinded her, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second to let her vision adjust. Her feet hit the pavement with a violent crunch; the white-hot pain when she tried to put weight on her left foot burned from her ankle up to her knee. She winced, shifted to her right foot, and grabbed Vincent's cape.

"Don't move," he said.

She huffed softly and looked down at her foot. It was twisted around, useless to her now. A martial artist with a broken ankle. It took her another second to realize Vincent wasn't speaking to her. She moved out from behind him, holding on to his cape to steady herself, and stared at Hojo.

He held his hands up and smiled, seemingly unsurprised to see them. "Hello, hello."

"On the floor," Vincent barked. The sudden sharpness in his voice startled Tifa, and she wavered on the spot for a second until he offered her his free arm. She held onto him gratefully.

Professor Hojo shook his head. "What a pair you two make."

"Now."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" He laughed softly and stepped forward, allowing them to see what was behind him.

Sephiroth was strapped to a metal table. He was naked, and for some reason that stirred a deep, blistering anger in Tifa- that he was humiliated like that, laying there unprotected and vulnerable. He had an I.V in one hand. He was completely still. No sign of life whatsoever. Her blood, boiling with rage, ran cold and she searched desperately for any movement; a twitching finger or the soft rise and fall of his chest, anything to reassure her.

"What have you done to him?"

Hojo shrugged. "There were side-effects. I had to extract alien cells from him. Unfortunately that meant destroying his human cells as well."

He could have been speaking a foreign language. She couldn't process much of what he said, except that Sephiroth was hurt somehow. It took all of her restraint and a broken ankle not to jump the bastard. She shifted around on her good ankle, wavering slightly.

_Heal_, she thought. The tingle of a cure spell raced down her spine and her ankle popped back into place smoothly. "He's a human being," she said, putting space between herself and Vincent, curling her hands into fists. "You have no right to use him."

Hojo laughed. The sound made Vincent flinch and raise his gun. "He did speak fondly of you. I understand you became quite close. Strange, one would think such a betrayal would be below the likes of you, Tifa. Didn't he kill your father?"

Vincent sidestepped her, wrapped his finger around the trigger and pointed the barrel at Hojo's head. "On the floor, Professor Hojo."

"And you have the cowardly ex-Turk as a bodyguard. I should warn you, he's not very good."

Vincent dropped the gun and fired a shot. Hojo shrieked and stumbled back into the metal table, leaving a splatter of blood as he lifted his foot off the cement floor and grabbed at his ankle. "You seem to have forgotten, Professor Hojo, that I was in fact very good at my job," Vincent said calmly. "I was a fine Turk then, and I haven't lost my touch." He fired another shot, hitting Hojo's other foot.

He fell to the ground, breathing in a loud, rattling wheeze.

"Vincent..." She touched his shoulder. He brushed her off in one smooth motion.

"There," he said, "now you're listening."

"You can't kill me. Isn't science wonderful?" Hojo wheezed. "With the knowledge... the knowledge I have- you can't kill me with your silly bullets, Turk."

She had seen Vincent angry before, but never like this. Never truly emotional. He showed only a flicker of feelings, but anyone who knew him well enough would know- this was Vincent furious. He wasn't a cruel person. He came off as cold much of the time, but that was a front. And under any other circumstances she would condemn his behaviour. It was bordering on torture. But not right now. Not with Hojo.

She skirted around the scientist, stepping over the blood smeared on the floor, and rushed to Sephiroth's side. "What's in the I.V?"

Hojo shrugged. "I would leave it in, if I were you."

She hesitated for just a moment, then gently eased the I.V out of Sephiroth's hand. A deep, unshakable fear settled in her as she touched his arm. His skin held no warmth whatsoever. He felt cold under her fingers. She checked for a pulse, her heart jumping into her throat.

_Please, oh please don't be dead..._

She noticed a strange rash on his shoulder. A patch of skin was mottled grey. The veins and capillaries around the rash were almost black. She couldn't feel a pulse. Her own heart seemed ready to burst. "Sephiroth," she whispered, shaking his arm and gripping his hand tightly, "wake up. Please."

"He won't," said Hojo.

She put her hands on his still, unmoving chest. Pumped three times. Hesitated, staring at his face, his almost delicate features and his mouth set in the tiniest frown. She sucked in air and pressed her mouth to his, breathing for him. Funny, she hadn't expected his lips to be so soft. They were cold too, horribly cold. Two lungfuls of air. She pumped his chest again. "Wake up- please, Sephiroth..."

"Silly girl."

She breathed for him, trying to restart him. It couldn't end like this. He couldn't just die on a table. He was good. He deserved better. She had so much to show him, so many things that he could have, if given the opportunity. He saved her life. She had to save his. Not just because she owed it to him. Because she couldn't imagine him being gone. She couldn't imagine ever feeling safe without him.

"Breathe," she groaned, straddling him on the metal table and laying her hands on his chest.

Vincent frisked Hojo, taking the pistol from the pocket of his lab coat, then pushed the man down on the floor. "Where is Genesis Rhapsodos?"

"Right there," Hojo said with a smile, lifting his hand and pointing.

Tifa glanced up from her futile effort to revive Sephiroth. She recognized the glass chamber from her last experience being in one of Hojo's laboratories- only last time, it had been Sephiroth suspended in the strange liquid. Genesis was completely still, his eyes closed, his hands at his sides. Vincent calmly walked over and kneeled in front of the chamber.

"How do you open it?"

Hojo shrugged. "Why should I help you?"

She ignored both of them, focusing on her friend. A cure spell, maybe. She poured every ounce of energy and willpower she had into it. He glowed green and blue for a moment, magic shimmering up his arms. The spell died away with no effect, and Tifa started to cry. She knew it wouldn't help, knew he would tell her crying solved nothing, but still the tears came, welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She pounded on his chest and begged him to wake up.

The glass chamber drained out with a loud gurgling noise, and opened from the top with a hiss. Genesis pulled himself out, coughing and spitting up green fluid. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" he coughed, lunging at Hojo. Vincent caught him and held him back, holding onto his arms tightly.

"Calm down."

Genesis straightened and gave his head a shake, spraying water everywhere. His eyes were brighter than ever, glowing a vivid blue. He sneered down at Hojo with a mixture of triumph and disgust. "For all of your sins, you will suffer dearly," he breathed.

"Sin, what an interesting concept. Science is not based in morals you see, Mr. Rhapsodos. Right and wrong have no place there. Only the pursuit of scientific advancement, knowledge-"

Tifa jumped down from the table and slapped him hard across the face. The crack of her palm striking his cheek resonated in the small underground lab, and his head snapped to the left. Her hand stung in a very satisfying way.

"Physical pain means little to me, Tifa. I appreciate the sentiment, of course, but I have transcended such trivial-"

She slapped him again, grabbed him by the collar of his lab coat, and pulled him forward. Being so close to his face made her stomach heave. "What did you do to him?" When she got no answer she shook him roughly. "Is he dead?"

"He's not dead," Genesis said, watching her in mild amazement.

Tifa released Hojo and returned to Sephiroth's side, taking his cold, limp hand in hers and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She couldn't handle seeing him like this. It felt like someone was sawing her limbs off very slowly and deliberately, and laughing at her all the while. "How can you tell?"

"I feel him. He is still here." Genesis closed his eyes and leaned back against the cement wall. His hands were trembling as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and rubbed his face.

She brushed a lock of Sephiroth's fine silver hair behind his ear. Funny, it felt softer than she remembered. Not dead. The terrible ripping sensation that gripped her body eased up and hope flickered inside her. She checked for his pulse again and finally felt a weak flutter under her fingertips. "Why won't he wake up? Genesis?"

"A defence mechanism. He's gathering Jenova cells- or trying to." Genesis scowled down at Hojo. "Was that your objective, Professor? You want another reunion? What do you plan on doing then? You want to destroy all life on this planet?"

Hojo waved his hand dismissively. He looked incredibly pale, probably from blood loss. Tifa hoped he was in agony.

"You shouldn't talk to yourself while you work, Professor. This lovely holding cell-" Genesis rapped his knuckles against the glass chamber, "-isn't very soundproof. I was privy to your rambling plans. The Professor here," he said to Vincent, "wants to synthesize a living, breathing virus. A perfect replica of Jenova that he will be able to control through remote cell symbiosis. Imagine the power he would have over the planet. The concentration of alien cells in his body might allow him to do it, but as I've been dying to point out, more likely his creation will take on a mind of its own." Genesis glanced at Sephiroth.

Tifa could barely keep up with the theoretical jargon, but it hardly mattered. At this particular moment she was more concerned with her friend than with Hojo's madness. "Will he be okay, Genesis?"

"I don't know, dear." Genesis lowered himself to the floor and slumped forward tiredly, resting his head in his hands. "I'm guessing he's in some form of stasis. Whether he wakes or not is most likely up to him." He looked up at Hojo. "There's no need to take matters out of this room. The equipment to isolate Jenova cells is here."

Hojo's manner shifted from dismissive to alarmed. "No," he said, "you can't possibly-"

"Ah, but there _is_ room for ethics in science, Professor." Genesis lifted his head and smiled. His face was even whiter than Hojo's, very pale and drawn with dark circles under his eyes. His hands still trembled. "I think I speak for all present when I say the right thing to do is to remove your Jenova cells and destroy them. You can diffuse back into the lifestream where you belong, without being a threat to it. And that is where you will stay."

"You've no idea the skill it takes to properly perform such a procedure-"

"I'm a fast learner," Vincent said.

* * *

They bandaged Hojo's shattered kneecaps rather crudely and strapped him down to the same metal table Sephiroth had been on. Tifa found an attached room that seemed to serve as living quarters, where she gathered blankets and pillows and brought them back into the lab for Sephiroth. She made a bed for him and had Genesis and Vincent settle him there. She tried to make him more comfortable, covering his cold body with two blankets, and pulled him into her lap so she could hold and cradle him.

Vincent ransacked the refrigerator, pulling out bottles and flasks full of fluids which he brought to a small table. He grabbed the I.V bag and filled it with a concoction of fluids. Hojo protested everything he did.

"You're going to kill me- too much succinylcholine... fool."

"Be quiet," Genesis said. He paced back and forth, flipping through a stack of papers and scanning the contents quickly.

"Succinylcholine. A paralytic muscle relaxant with no analgesic effects." Vincent smiled grimly. "A rather barbaric drug, particularly for surgery. Not a very good anaesthetic at all, on its own."

"Give him forty milligrams to start and set the drip," Genesis said.

She watched them, vaguely horrified and fascinated as Vincent carefully inserted the I.V needle into Hojo's hand and started administering the drugs. It seemed so surreal, like a feverish dream, this amateur scientific surgery about to be performed in front of her. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, bury her face in Sephiroth's silky hair and pretend they were somewhere far away; she had the strangest desire to take him to Costa Del Sol when this was all over. She couldn't imagine him stretched out on a beach, but she enjoyed trying.

The cocktail of drugs paralysed Hojo but left him quite conscious. His eyes followed Vincent as the ex-Turk prepared a needle, filling the syringe with a noxious-looking black liquid. Genesis instructed him, reading from Hojo's notes. They were both incredibly calm, like they'd done this before.

"Intravenous is most effective for initial chromosomal breakdown. A larger dose is necessary with intramuscular but may prevent brain cell damage caused by intravenous administration. Breakdown calculated at 0.2 percent per hour." Genesis found a pen and scribbled something down. "I was never good with numbers."

"Three litres," Vincent said. "This won't be pleasant, Professor Hojo." He stabbed the long, thick needle into Hojo's stomach and injected the black fluid, then filled the syringe once more and repeated the procedure.

Tifa averted her eyes, choosing instead to look down at Sephiroth and speak to him quietly, in the vague hope that he might be able to hear her. "It's okay, I'll take care of you. You're safe now. I'm here," she murmured, stroking his pale cheek with her thumb. "I know you don't have much reason to trust people. You can trust me, right? I won't hurt you."

"Poor balance of chem. A and C causes necrosis, damage to temporal lobe as seen in Nibel subjects one to thirteen," Genesis read, looking up at Vincent. "Well then, now we know what happened to the people we found in Nibelheim. How gruesome."

"He was perfecting a method to isolate cells." Vincent repeated the injections over and over. Hojo's stomach was blood-scored mess and he switched to giving the injections in the man's shoulder instead.

"It's far more than that, I think. Pure madness."

Tifa tried to block out their conversation. "You're not going to believe it, Sephiroth. He's not your father after all. Isn't that a relief?"

"Beg pardon?"

She glanced up at Genesis, then at Vincent. It was his right to share that information, not hers. "Nothing, Genesis."

Vincent grunted and switched to Hojo's other shoulder. "Keep talking to him, Tifa. It may help."

She lowered her head and whispered in Sephiroth's ear. "I miss you. I got so used to having you around, you know? Now when you're gone I feel lonely."

"Leaving brain cells intact until tissue, bone, organ, and skin cells have broken down and Jenova cells are properly isolated ensures proper treatment of cerebral cortex in the extraction-"

"Genesis," she said quietly.

He looked up from the notes and nodded. "I apologize, Tifa. Perhaps we should move him into the other room. You don't have to watch this."

"No, it's okay. I want to be here, in case something goes wrong. I just- it's hard to listen to that. He was doing that to people in Nibelheim. Poisoning them," she said.

"Muscle tissue is starting to break down," Vincent said.

She couldn't watch. Part of her wanted to, out of morbid curiosity, but she just couldn't. She burrowed her head in the crook of Sephiroth's neck, letting his hair tickle her nose. He smelled like sweat and dirt, and her heart broke a little for him, knowing he had suffered while she dawdled away in Edge. "I'll keep you safe now. I promise," she whispered, hoping he understood just how much weight a promise held for her.

Hours passed slowly. Hojo intermittently vomited that familiar thick, viscous black fluid as his body shut down on him from the stress of alien DNA separating from human DNA. Genesis cleaned the mess up and Vincent attached several metal wires to his subject's skin, administering a sort of electric shock that was supposed to help separate the genetic material.

"Listen!" Genesis hissed suddenly.

Somebody was walking around in the abandoned old house above them. The footsteps were heavy and slow- a man, Tifa guessed. Vincent pulled his gun and aimed at the cellar door in the ceiling.

It swung open slowly.

"Vincent? Tifa?"

Her racing heart slowed considerably. "Cloud. We're down here," she called, wrapping her arms around Sephiroth protectively.

Cloud jumped down and landed smoothly. His eyes fell first on Hojo, and his mouth dropped open. "What the hell...? Vincent? What are you doing?"

"Science," Genesis said.

Tifa smiled at Cloud when he noticed her on the floor with Sephiroth. "Sorry Cloud," she said. "We had to... I couldn't wait for the WRO."

He shrugged and approached the metal table with Hojo spread out on it. "What the hell?" he repeated weakly. "What is this? What's going on? What's wrong with _him_?" He jerked his head at Sephiroth.

"I'm not sure," she said.

"Is this really happening?" he asked, eyeing the small table cluttered with bottles, flasks, and the whirring, beeping machine that administered shocks to Hojo.

"I'm afraid so." Genesis flipped through the pages in his hands. "We're killing him, you see. It's not as simple as you would think."

"Were you followed here?" Vincent asked, scrutinizing Cloud carefully.

"I don't think so- who would follow me?"

"You never know," said Genesis.

"I felt him. He was calling me." Cloud approached Tifa and knelt down beside her. "Is he still... sane?"

She hadn't considered the possibility that he might not be. "I... I don't know. I hope so."

Cloud stood and approached the metal table. "Exactly what are you doing?"

She felt rather than heard Sephiroth take a breath. Her hands were resting on his chest as he inhaled sharply. Her heart jumped into her throat and a warm wave of relief spread through her body. She hugged him close and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "Welcome back," she murmured.

He let out a barely audible groan that may have been a word.

"Sephiroth," she rested her hand on his suddenly flushed cheek, "it's okay. It's just me."

"Mmm... Mother."

She shivered. The way that word sounded, reverent and worshipful. Was he mad? Would he be the man she knew now? Had he lost his mind from enduring Hojo's experiments? "No, it's me. Tifa."

He mumbled under his breath. "My... reunion. Come... join me..."

"Tifa," Cloud said sharply, "I think maybe you should give him some space."

She shook her head stubbornly. "He's just waking up. That's all." She looked down to find Sephiroth staring up at her, his green eyes flat and glazed over. She hugged him tightly and smiled. "Hey."

"Let go of me," he said tonelessly.

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and she searched his face for reassurance. He closed his eyes. "Sephiroth," she said, "look at me."

His eyes flickered open but he turned his head to the side, avoiding her gaze. "I called," he said. "I called and you came."

"Yes," Cloud said. "I'm here for your reunion."

"Ah," said Genesis, "I understand now. You clever dog, Sephiroth."

He closed his eyes again and rested his hand on top of hers, pulling her arm around himself. "I want to leave. Tifa... take me away from this place."

She nodded. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she held him tightly. "Of course."

"Take the Tiny Bronco," Vincent said, looking down at them. His eyes glittered strangely. "Take care of him, Tifa."

"I will," she whispered, lowering her head and kissing Sephiroth's cheek gently.


	20. Lucid

**A/N: … I hope anyone who was following this story is still out there. Deepest apologies. This is not a dead fic. I just got frustrated with it. As I was going back and reading through previous chapters to keep a few plot points straight, I realized I'd progressed considerably with my writing ability and was no longer 'in the right frame of mind' to be working on this story. I gave it a few months (turned into like… a year?!) and now I am back in my chair. All systems go! **

**Again I am sorry for the hiatus.**

* * *

**Chapter #20**

**Lucid**

When he regained consciousness it felt as though he'd been pulled out of ice-cold water onto warm, dry land. He was disoriented. The world made no sense and somebody had their arms wrapped around him. He felt pathetically weak. The pull to retreat into his mind was like a vice-grip holding him and squeezing the air from his lungs. He heard his name spoken in a quiet, pleading voice that he didn't recognize at first. It took him a moment, but when he did recall her there was a burst of warmth and relief in his chest that overwhelmed him.

He knew she would find him.

He fell asleep next to Tifa in the small red hovercraft, letting his head drop onto her shoulder. The quiet hum of the engine lulled him to sleep. He hadn't slept for days. Where he'd expected nightmares there was nothing. Just deep, blank slumber that he welcomed eagerly. When he woke the back of his neck felt prickly and hot with sweat. A warm, dry breeze ruffled his hair slightly.

He lifted his head to look up at Tifa. "Where are we?"

She smiled. She was looking over her shoulder, carefully reversing the Tiny Bronco and lining it up flush with a floating wooden dock. "Cloud has a villa here," she said. "Costa Del Sol."

He sat up, yawned and stretched. His arms ached in protest and his right shoulder burned. "Oh."

"We can go somewhere else." She looked up at him, searching his face.

"I don't mind." He didn't care where they were, so long as it was far away from where he'd been. So long as she was with him. He pushed his hair back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun was perched on the edge of the horizon, hovering above the water and casting the world in a soft orange glow. He slumped back in his seat, tired and sore. "It's beautiful," he mumbled.

Tifa pressed her wrist against his forehead. It felt delightfully cool. "Hmm... I don't _think_ you have a fever."

He managed a wry smile.

She had to help him out of the Tiny Bronco and onto the dock. He had no strength left in him. His legs shook and he leaned against her for support, draping his arm around her thin shoulders. She slipped her arm around his waist and propped him up with some difficulty. Slowly they walked through the quiet, serene marina, down the wide wooden dock to the stone pathway that wound through the resort town. A couple passed by them, their arms entwined and their heads bent together, giggling and whispering. He felt an odd twinge in his chest.

"Just up the hill," Tifa said.

He breathed slow, deep breaths. The air smelled of salt and flowers and the scent went to his head. He felt dizzy, weak, and tired. Yet oddly, with Tifa beside him supporting his weight on her small, round shoulder, he felt peaceful, and safe. All he wanted now was a clean, soft bed, and days to simply lay there, preferably with her. Sleep and eat, shower the sweat and dirt off of himself.

He didn't have the energy nor the desire to talk.

As they walked down the main street the sound of music and laughter grew louder, then began to fade once they passed the bar. It was slow going, and every step seemed more difficult than the last. His body felt too heavy for him to be moving around, even with Tifa's support. She directed him down a cobbled path up to a modest villa, fetched the key from under a decorative vase with a lush tropical plant cascading out of it, and unlocked the door.

"The bedroom has a great view," she said, closing the door behind them and locking it. "Nobody will bother us here."

"Okay." He leaned against her and tried to control the tremors in his legs. The villa was roomy and open, with a kitchen, a dining area, and a large den. Through the bay window he could see the ocean and the sky ablaze with pink and orange.

The arm around his waist tightened, squeezing him gently, and she helped him up the stairs into a bedroom. He collapsed onto the freshly made bed, breathing heavily. His shoulder seared with pain and he closed his eyes. His stomach heaved unpleasantly.

Tifa disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of water. "Drink," she said gently, helping him sit up and pressing the glass into his hand. He drank it all in two swallows, relishing the cool relief in his throat.

"Thank you."

She nodded, taking the glass from him and setting it on the bedside table. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Tomorrow," he whispered, falling back into the bed and burrowing his face into the fluffy pillow.

She pulled the clean white duvet over him and stroked his back tenderly, her fingers trailing along his aching shoulder. "I'll be across the hall," she said. "Just call if you need anything. Anything at all. Okay?"

That wouldn't do. He needed her here beside him. He sorely regretted what he'd said to her before he realized whose arms were around him when he came to. The thought of physical contact with anyone made him squirm. Tifa was the exception. He craved the way she held him, the way her skin felt against his. "Tifa," he mumbled into his pillow, "stay here."

"Sorry?"

"Stay with me."

She didn't answer and he thought perhaps he'd finally overstepped his bounds with her, but she pulled the covers back and crawled into bed beside him. He rolled onto his side and snuggled up to her, draping his arm around her small waist and pulling her against him. She mumbled something into his chest.

"Mm?"

"You're safe now," she said.

He buried his face in her silky hair. "I know."

She lifted her face and looked at him, her warm eyes sparkling. He thought she might start crying, but she kissed his cheek and rested her head against his chest again. They fell asleep like that, their arms wrapped around each other tightly.

* * *

He woke up alone, to the sound of running water somewhere in the house. The space beside him on the bed was still warm and he could vaguely make out the shape of a woman indented there. Tifa came back into the bedroom wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, her hair wrapped up in a bun and secured with a pencil.

"I thought you'd like a bath," she said.

Sephiroth tested his body, stretching his arms up in the air and flexing his knees, hoping he'd regained at least some of his strength. He very much wanted to have a bath, to wash off the dirt and dried sweat. He didn't know how Tifa had managed to sleep beside him. His hair smelled awful.

His right shoulder burned when he moved his arm, and he winced slightly. "Tifa," he said, sitting up slowly and rubbing his shoulder, "where is my sword?"

She sat on the edge of his bed and watched him, her hands twisting together in her lap. "I... I don't know."

He thought about it for a moment and was tempted to be angry with her, that she would forget about his sword; it was a part of him, had been with him for so long, through so much, and knowing it wasn't with him was distressing. But she looked so uneasy, her large brown eyes studying his face, that he couldn't bring himself to pursue the matter. "It's all right, Tifa."

"Vincent will find it," she said. "Or Cloud."

He got out of bed shakily, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy. He nearly fell back but she put her hand on his shoulder to steady him. He bit his lower lip and nearly cried out from the white-hot burst of pain that seared down his arm. "My shoulder..."

Tifa dropped her hand. "You're hurting," she said. "What can I do? Maybe a cure spell... hold on, I'll get my materia."

She left and he stumbled his way into the bathroom, grabbing onto furniture and stopping to lean against a doorway for a moment. The bathroom was small and rather cramped- he lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily from the effort. Tifa found him there and crouched beside him, her mouth curving upwards slightly.

"You're so stubborn," she said.

He closed his eyes and couldn't help smiling himself. "I know."

A warm tingling sensation was spreading through his body, starting somewhere in his chest and radiating to the tips of his fingers. His shoulder ached for a moment, began to feel uncomfortably hot, then cool and almost numb. Tifa helped him out of his plain black shirt, pausing to examine his shoulder. "Better," she said.

He looked down at it. The sickly greyish rash was fading. Underneath his skin looked swollen and red. "Abscess," he muttered, letting his head fall back against the bathroom wall.

She clucked her tongue and undid his trousers.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you."

He fixed her with a deadly glare, but she smiled back at him serenely and slid his trousers off. "I've already seen everything there is to see," she added, grabbing a hairbrush from the counter and starting at the ends of his matted hair, working her way upwards gently.

Somehow he managed to find the energy to snark at her. "I fail to see how I need to be nude for you to brush my hair."

She tugged at a particularly nasty snarl and grinned. "You'll feel better after a bath and some breakfast."

If she was so keen on treating him like an invalid, he would take full advantage of that. She finished brushing his hair and he refused to move. "Help me," he said.

She grabbed both of his arms and pulled him to his feet. He nearly collapsed against her, forgetting that he was still extremely weak, but she steadied him easily and guided him to the bathtub. It was full to the brim with steaming-hot water, and his foot turned bright pink the moment he stuck it in there. "Oww."

Tifa laughed. "Go on. It's good for your muscles."

He eased himself down into the water and groaned. Immediately the tension seemed to bleed out of his back, and the muscles in his legs loosened up. He sank into the water until only his face was dry, and floated there with his eyes closed, listening to Tifa humming under her breath. The smell of soap filled his nose and when he sat up and opened his eyes, she attacked his head with a handful of shampoo.

After a long, hot bath he did indeed feel much better. Almost human again. He shooed Tifa out of the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, studying the lines and curves of his face, trying to reconcile the familiar image with the alien feeling in his head. A great void, black and bottomless, buzzed and whirred around in his skull like a spinning dervish. He couldn't shake it. Talking helped. The sound of his own voice filling the air distracted him. He laid in the hot bath and talked to Tifa about anything that came to mind. SOLDIER, the war, the toys he had as a child (they were few and far between), the first time he ate ice cream and the last time he spoke to Angeal.

Now he stared at himself, let the silence engulf him, and tried to ignore the rattling blackness in his skull. Soft green eyes stared back at him with a hint of vulnerability, like a frightened child. The corners of his mouth were turned down and a single furrow in his brow marked the concentration he exuded on his inspection of himself. He was afraid of that blankness. He had the sense that it was false, a sort of security blanket that, if removed, would reveal a swarm of rotten, mouldering things. Toys and ice cream were fine, safe things. Being in SOLDIER and fighting in the war were accomplishments to be proud of. He didn't want to go deeper than that. Better to think there was nothing else there.

A clattering noise downstairs broke his focus. He ripped his eyes away from the mirror and dressed himself in clean clothes. White this time. White cotton that smelled good as he slipped the shirt over his head. White shorts. His legs and arms were starkly pale, so much that he could follow the bluish veins with his eyes. He rubbed at his hair with a towel and combed it out slowly, then abandoned his reflection, padding down the hall and stairway to the main floor.

Tifa was making breakfast. The clattering had been from her tossing dirty dishes into the sink casually. She moved quickly, on instinct and habit clearly formed from years of working with food and drink. Sephiroth went quietly to the sofa that faced out from the den, sat down and watched her fry bacon. The toaster popped and she grabbed the toast, flung it onto the plate and buttered it quickly, then poured orange juice into a tall glass.

"Tifa," he said.

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Feel better?"

"Yes, very much." He studied her hair, twisted up into a messy bun. She looked different with her hair pulled away from her face. He liked the gentle curve of her exposed throat, the soft, pale skin.

"How do you want your eggs?"

He reached for the answer and was surprised- it came easily. "Sunny-side up."

She glanced back at him with a little grin on her lips before returning to her cooking.

* * *

"Good grief," Genesis said, wiping the sweat from his face with a handkerchief. His hands were sore from repeatedly pressing the plunger of the syringe down and forcing viscous black fluid into the paralysed Professor Hojo. He dabbed the blood off of his wrists and arms, and discarded the filthy handkerchief. "Are we nearly finished?"

"You don't look so good," Cloud said. He was sitting cross-legged on the pile of blankets, notes spread out around him. Genesis had to give the young man credit- he didn't seem like a scientifically inclined individual, but he took to Hojo's research with fervent curiosity.

"Thank you for that." Genesis observed the blackened skin of Hojo's arm. It didn't look like an arm anymore. The muscle and tissue seemed to have dissolved into a greyish mass, revealing stark white bone here and there. Vincent continually suctioned the liquifying flesh up with a small glass vacuum that fed a large whirring steel canister.

"Nearly finished," he said.

"The WRO will be here soon," Cloud said absently. "We should finish this before they show up."

"Tell that to him." Genesis jerked his head at the metal table and the shrivelled husk that lay there. "Hurry along and decompose, Professor." He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "Why is it so damned hot down here?"

"It's not," Vincent said. "You're running a fever."

Genesis threw him a scowl. "How can you tell from over there, hm?"

"You're flushed, sweating, and shivering." Vincent looked up from his work. "When did you last eat?"

"I was stuck in an oversized test tube for a week. I haven't eaten since that lovely breakfast in Cosmo Canyon."

"You're pretty grumpy too," Cloud said, still with that absent tone. His eyes never left the paper in front of him. "We should grab something to eat when we bug out."

"Oh yes, all of this work is certainly making me hungry." Genesis wouldn't admit it to either of his comrades, but they were right. He was in a blasted mood. His stomach was churning. The smell of rotten flesh was likely burned into his nostrils for eternity. How Vincent could hover over that table for hours was beyond him. He felt weak yet his limbs were restless. His hands twitched. Sephiroth was probably curled up nice and cozy beside the lovely Tifa Lockhart, all of his wants and needs taken care of. Waited on hand and foot.

"Why don't you sit down?" Cloud asked.

Genesis gave in and slouched down beside him. "You're awfully interested in that research."

"It's sort of ironic, you know? He put all this effort into the Jenova Project, trying to create a human infused with Jenova cells. Then he turns around and tries to do the opposite. Separate Jenova cells from a human body." Cloud rubbed at his face and flipped a sheaf of paper over to scan the back of it. "It's like a car wreck. I don't want to look but I can't help myself."

"I know the feeling."

"You're close to Sephiroth, right?" He finally looked up from his reading. His swirling blue eyes glowed in the stark white light.

"As close as anyone is to him, I suppose."

Cloud sighed ponderously, as though he wanted to ask a question but wasn't entirely sure what it was. Genesis had a fairly good idea what he wanted to ask. "Spit it out," he said. It came out more clipped than he intended but Cloud seemed unaffected by his bad mood.

"Do you think there's something going on... between him and Tifa?"

"Yes," said Vincent.

"Yes," said Genesis.

"Oh." Cloud looked down at his papers again. "Well. All right."

"Is that all?"

"Well... exactly what... is going on between them?"

"Haven't a clue."

"I think they have feelings for each other," said Vincent. "Given Tifa's past actions concerning romance, I doubt she will act on her feelings."

Cloud coughed into the folder on his lap. "You really think he's... sane?"

"Oh, I think he's doing quite fine," Genesis said. "What are you worried about?"

"His track record."

"You ought to consider reading up on psychology, Cloud. Sephiroth's reaction to discovering how he came to be isn't really surprising. Having one's identity compromised to such a degree can easily induce a psychotic break. Not to justify his actions, of course, but I think that danger has passed. He has a firm grip on his identity now. And besides all that-" Genesis rose and flicked his cape over his shoulder grandly, "- he wouldn't hurt a hair on Tifa's head. He's quite madly in love with her."

"Well, Reeve is going to have a psychological evaluation done on him anyway. You too," Cloud said, collecting the papers scattered around him and putting them back into the folder on his lap.

"Why's that?"

"Finished," said Vincent. "We should leave now, before Shinra or the WRO get here." He shut the vacuum off and the steel canister stopped whirring, slowing to a halt with a soft hiss. "Jenova cells," he said quietly, patting the top of the canister.

"Better slap a bio-hazard sign on that thing." Cloud rummaged around for a moment and came back with a bright yellow sticker. "There. Now how do we kill it?"

"That may take time. Jenova cells behave as a virus does, so I imagine the WRO lab will try to develop a sort of anti-virus for it."

"This is all very exciting," Genesis said, glancing between the two men pointedly, "but I'm very tired, and very ill, and I would like to leave now."

Vincent nodded. "Of course. Let's go."

They left the underground lab, Cloud carrying an armful of folders, Vincent cradling the steel canister, and Genesis limping behind them pitifully. He looked over his shoulder at the withered skeleton on the table and felt a strange mix of triumph and sadness. That so much evil was done by one man, that he was undone in a way that was just as grotesque. And what did anyone have to show for it, anyway? No scientific advancements had been made. They were no better off now. They knew more, but it was useless knowledge that he would rather not have.

"Genesis?" Cloud called back to him. "You coming?"

"Yes." He turned away from the horrid sight and hurried to catch up. Without Sephiroth with him he felt dreadfully alone in the world. People would rather forget about him, he knew. As they would rather forget about Sephiroth. It didn't seem right that the two of them would linger on after it was all over, after what remained of Jenova was destroyed. They would carry those viral cells with them for the rest of their lives. It made him feel strangely unclean, and dangerous.

Cloud rested a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be all right, you know."

"Will it, though?"

"Yeah. Trust me."

The intense sincerity in his voice surprised Genesis. He glanced at Cloud and looked away immediately, uncomfortable with the sudden influx of emotions visible on the younger man's face.

"We need to destroy the lab," said Vincent. "And we need to decide what we'll tell Reeve."

* * *

Late in the afternoon they sat out on the deck overlooking the ocean. The tropical heat soaked into his bones pleasantly. He never wanted to feel cold again, and rather hoped if he sat here long enough his body would absorb the delicious warmth and never let it go. His shoulder felt better, though it still ached when he moved his arm. And for the first time in so many years, his belly was full of food. He'd eaten himself nearly comatose this morning. Tifa kept piling food on his plate and he kept eating it, until finally she cut him off with the warning that he'd be sick later.

He didn't feel sick now. He felt absolutely content with everything around him. He watched the ice cubes in his drinking glass bob up and down as he raised it to his lips and took a small sip. The burn of alcohol was tampered down by the fruit punch and the fresh pineapple slices- the woman knew how to make a drink, he would give her that.

"What do you call this?"

"Costa del slammer," she mumbled lazily. "Just rum with strawberry and pineapple juice. It's a half-and-half drink."

"What is that?"

"It's half alcohol."

"Ah." He could tell she was smiling by the tone of her voice. "You mean to intoxicate me."

She laughed. "A big guy like you? I think it would take more than one drink."

He looked down at himself, grunted and took another sip of his drink. Tifa pulled herself up out of her lounge chair and wandered through the open patio doors- he watched her out of the corner of his eye, admiring her legs. She wore nothing but a little black swimsuit that hardly covered her at all, and made him look away when she first came out in it. He knew he thought her beautiful, but he'd never felt so much desire before. He wanted to touch her, kiss her. He wanted to run his hands along the curves of her hips.

She came back with a bowl of fruit and set it on the table next to his drink. "Eat."

Sephiroth touched his stomach. "I can't."

Tifa settled back down in her chair and crossed her ankles, drawing his eyes down her slender legs. "I'll call Reeve tomorrow. He's not going to be happy, but he's pretty good at sorting out sticky situations."

"Most Shinra employees are."

"For now," she scooped up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth, "we should relax"

He sighed quietly. Never had been keen on relaxing. "Tifa."

"Mm?"

There were a million little thoughts vying for his attention and he could not sweep them under the carpet. Yet if he acknowledged one he felt it would turn into a rush of words, a downpour, a full-on rant that would only confirm his darkest thought- that he was mad. Really, truly mad. In some fundamental way that could not be fixed or patched up or healed. He wanted to be content with the hot afternoon sun, the ocean breeze, Tifa's shapely legs stretched out on a lounge chair. He _was_ content, and yet the feeling he'd had this morning, the sensation of being cradled in a false sort of blankness, had returned.

"Hey." Tifa reached out and grabbed his hand. "You okay?"

How strange, to be pulled in two different directions. He wanted to say yes, to ease her worries, to make her smile, but how liberating it would feel to be honest! And she deserved the truth. She would appreciate it, would she not? He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "No."

"Talk to me." Her voice was so very gentle. "What's wrong, Sephiroth?"

"I think… perhaps… " He trailed off, hopeless. After everything, was it possible she would become wary of him? If he admitted there was a gasping, festering black wound somewhere inside him and he was too frightened to examine it? Would she decide the risk had become too great, and she could no longer be close to him?

Was he so frightened of human relationships?

"What is it?" TIfa sounded deeply worried now.

"What if I'm mad?" he murmured, opening his eyes and sipping on his drink idly, staring out at the glittering ocean.

She giggled, which was truly a rare noise to hear from her. He did not know what to think. "You're worried that you're crazy?" she asked.

Sephiroth turned his head and stared at her. "Is that not a valid concern?"

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, considering him, her warm brown eyes reflecting the brilliant afternoon sun, all traces of amusement gone. "You're not mad," she said eventually, running her thumb along his palm and threading her fingers through his. "Just confused. And it's okay to be confused, you know. I'm sure you'll sort things out eventually."

"And if I can't?"

"You will."

He liked that she had confidence in him. "I'm frightened of myself," he added softly, closing his eyes once more. That was it, really. He could think of no better way to sum up the thoughts in his head. Too frightened to examine them, too afraid of what he might find.

"Don't be," she said. He heard her rise from her chair. She sat on the edge of his chair and held his hand and touched his face, her fingers trailing from his earlobe to his chin stroking his cheek. "You're not so bad, you know." Her voice was light, teasing.

"How can you say that?"

"Well-"

"After everything…. Everything I have done. I have too many sins…"

She squeezed his shoulder. "You sound like Vincent! Don't hold on to the past like that. It's not good for you. Besides, people aren't made of just memories. You're more than that."

He had no other way to vocalize his thoughts. "I don't know who I am, Tifa."

"Lots of people don't know who they are," she said, combing her fingers through his fine hair. She looked into his eyes, searching for something, a small smile on her lips. "I know who you are. And you're not mad. I've seen madness. It doesn't ask questions. There's no sense to it. It's just there."

As they sat there with the sun beating down on them, it occurred to Sephiroth that he'd never truly sought comfort from another human being. Not like this. He had never laid his fears bare for another to see. It felt vulnerable. He felt as though he was made of glass. Easy to see through, and to break. He ought to be disgusted with himself. Everything he'd ever been taught, every thought, every feeling, had always been that he was strong. Unmovable. Insurmountable. Never expose oneself, never show weakness. But he was tired and his body ached and his mind was a mess. Had he not earned the right to be weak? Just this once, for a moment, with Tifa?

"You know me," he said finally, studying her pretty face.

"I think so."

He smiled. She returned it. He made room for her on his chair and she stretched out beside him, her head on his chest. He curled one arm around her small frame and they fell asleep like that, under the hot afternoon sun.


	21. Reality

**A/N: So sorry. This fic is giving me all sorts of trouble! Thank you for the feedback and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Love.**

* * *

**Chapter #21**

**Reality**

* * *

Two WRO agents held Genesis against the wall while a third trained a gun on him. He gave all three men an impassive smile and let his body go lax so they had to hold him up. If they wanted him to cooperate he would do so in his own way, however he pleased, and his muscles were quite sore regardless. Being manhandled was truly the last thing he felt like tolerating at the moment, but Vincent had given him a quick word of advice before they turned themselves in to the WRO. Do not resist. Be complacent.

He could do that, albeit grudgingly.

"You have no idea," the man behind the desk said, his eyes moving between Vincent Valentine and Cloud Strife. "Absolutely no idea… what I have been through today. You realize you have breached every protocol we've put in place? Vincent, you're one of our top agents. Do you realize what this looks like? What am I going to tell them?"

"It's your organization," Cloud said, with all the dismissiveness of a cocky young man. Genesis smiled indulgently when the leader of the WRO looked up at him.

"It doesn't work like that! I have a Board of Directors to answer to, Cloud. This is not Shinra. I can't do as I please." Reeve Tuesti pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned.

"The situation was urgent," Vincent said.

"Urgent or not-"

"I made an executive decision."

"Vincent… Look, you've backed me into a corner here. What am I going to tell the press? People are calling for public executions. They want to see Professor Hojo strung up and shot. And Sephiroth- don't even get me started on that. Where is he, anyway? And where is Tifa? She didn't report in this morning. And this man-" Reeve pointed a finger at Genesis, "-what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Get him some medical attention, perhaps," Vincent said.

"Genesis Rhapsodos, formerly of SOLDIER, first class?" Reeve looked directly at Genesis, studying him.

"At your service," he said, attempting a bow. His guards tightened their grip on him, and he frowned. "Is this really necessary?"

"No," Reeve said, nodding at his agents. "Release him. Lower your weapon, Walter. You're excused."

They released him and he rubbed his shoulders pointedly, smiling at Walter as the agent walked by. "Good men," he said to Reeve.

"Yes, they are good men. Do you need medical attention, Mr. Rhaphsodos?"

"No," he said.

"Yes." Cloud gave him a very pointed look. "You should be checked out, at the very least."

"I'm quite fine."

"We have to… I'm afraid we have to quarantine you, regardless."

"Quarantine?" He did not like the word. It sounded cold, clinical, as though his very presence would cause illness and decay. "I assure you there's nothing contagious about me."

"It's for your safety, not ours. And we will need to do a psychiatric evaluation."

"And who is that for?" He straightened his shoulders, though his back ached fiercely, and tried to look imposing. He was beginning to lose his patience with the entire situation. And his mind was far away, not here in the headquarters of the World Regenesis Organization but somewhere indescribable. He wondered where Sephiroth was. He wondered if his friend was hurt, or suffering, or sick. He had been through a week of degenerative torture. Genesis could only pray that Tifa had the capability to take care of him. She certainly had the guts for it.

"Also for you," Reeve said.

"I assure you I'm perfectly sane." He allowed a sardonic smile. "Though I do realize that is precisely what a less than sane person would tell you. The irony is not lost on me."

"Sorry," Cloud said, glancing at him and grimacing slightly, perhaps aware that Genesis wanted nothing to do with labs and tests and anything of the sort at the moment. "Sephiroth will have to be evaluated too, if it makes you feel better."

"It does not." He crossed his arms. "But as you wish, Mr. President."

"Please, call me Reeve."

"As you wish, Reeve."

"Cloud, take him to the hospital ward please." Reeve glanced at Vincent, and Genesis sensed a silent conversation was taking place. "Get a check-up while you're there. Leave your… err…" His eyes fell on the canister they'd brought in. "Just leave that here, until we can decide what to do with it." He leaned back in his chair and groaned. "For the love of God… you ex-Shinra employees. You'll be the death of me."

Cloud smirked at the man and gestured for Genesis to follow him. "Come on."

As the door closed behind them he heard Vincent raise his voice slightly. "Are you not curious in the slightest?" he asked Cloud.

"About what?"

"Whatever private conversation between those two that we are not meant to hear?"

"Not really. Too busy worrying about Tifa." He stopped in front of an elevator and pressed a button. When the slick metal door slid open, a young woman in a get-up not befitting of a corporate office stepped out and smacked Cloud's shoulder smartly.

"Hi! Remember me?"

"Nope." Cloud attempted to sidestep her.

She rolled her eyes like a child, barely glancing at Genesis and clearly not recognizing him. "Every time! Every time something interesting goes down I'm just left sitting in my stupid office. Nobody thinks to call Yuffie."

"It's Vincent's fault," Cloud said. "He specifically told us to leave you out of it."

Her eyebrows went up and she balled her little fists. "He did?!"

"Yep. In fact I was going to call you but he told me you couldn't handle it. Said paperwork was more your expertise than fieldwork. Why don't you go give him an earful? He's in Reeve's office right now."

"That bastard! What's his deal, anyway? I'm a WRO agent as much as he is! Paperwork! Is there anything worse?" She brushed past both of them, evidently not at all interested in Genesis, and stomped down the hall, clearly upset.

Cloud chuckled to himself and stepped into the elevator. "Don't tell Vincent I said that."

"Who is that blaspheming child?"

"Yuffie Kisaragi. She's… well, she's something." Cloud seemed infinitely amused. "She's always been sort of… fond of Vincent. They evacuated Midgar together three years ago."

"How very sweet." He felt slightly ill as the elevator began to move downward, and had to lean against the back wall. There was soft music trickling out of the speaker above his head, and it soothed him slightly. It had been a very long and draining week. In fact, it had been a long and draining month for him. He wanted nothing more than to relax, unwind, perhaps take a little holiday. Presumably that was what Tifa and Sephiroth were doing at the moment. Not that they hadn't earned it, but Genesis could not help feeling slightly cheated.

"You okay?"

"Not presently, no." He leaned forward slightly, his hands on his knees. "Perhaps I do need medical attention."

"Of course you do. You were stuck in that fish tank for a week." Cloud became serious once more as the elevator halted and the door slid open with a soft metallic hiss. "Don't worry about the quarantine- Reeve's just being cautious."

They walked down a brightly-lit hallway into a quiet, sterile white room with a receptionist sitting behind a glass window. She looked up and smiled at Cloud, clearly recognizing him, then glanced at Genesis with a slightly baffled frown. Disgruntled, he strode up to the window. "Good day," he said, "do you not recognize me?"

"I assume you must be Genesis Rhapsodos? Mr. Tuesti informed me you would be checking in." The way she said his name gave Genesis the distinct impression she'd never heard it before.

"Yes," he said irritably, well-aware that Cloud was trying valiantly not to laugh.

* * *

Tifa cast a critical eye on the man sitting at the small breakfast bar in front of her. He devoured his food like it was serious business- he didn't look up and he never paused except to gulp down orange juice. When he'd eaten most of his food she piled more of it onto his plate and threw the cast-iron skillet into the sink.

"That's all," she said. "There's no more food, Sephiroth."

He shrugged, scooping a pile of scrambled egg up with a piece of toast and tossing it back. It was like he'd never had a full meal in his entire life. She'd spent so much time trying to get him to eat. Now she was worried he would never stop. Why the sudden appetite? Was he sick?

"You are staring," he said, sucking grease off of his fingers.

For a moment Tifa got sidetracked by the sight of him casually licking his fingers, almost in a sensual way- she gave herself a shake. "You've eaten five eggs and half a pound of bacon," she said.

One of his silver eyebrows arched in amusement. He seemed to be slowly recovering himself, hour by hour, coming alive again. All day yesterday she'd kept a close eye on him and she'd noticed that he'd been distant, almost disassociated. But very slowly he'd warmed up. The tension left his body and his limbs became loose, his movements languid. He'd spent the morning lounging on the sofa, detangling his hair. He reminded her of a cat. So relaxed, yet clearly ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"I am recuperating," he said.

She glanced at his shoulder. He wore a plain white t-shirt that belonged to Cloud- it was too small for him and clung to his arms and chest in a way she didn't entirely mind. The grey patch of skin had faded to white and looked like it might become a permanent mark. "I'm not complaining," she said, "I'm just worried."

His mouth curved up into a smirk. "Don't worry, Tifa. I am merely preparing for the inevitable. I assume Shinra or your WRO will find us eventually." He impaled one last fried potato with his fork and hardly stopped to chew it before swallowing it whole. "I must be ready for that."

She took his plate for him and took the chair right next to him, setting two mugs of coffee down. "What do you mean?"

He merely looked at her, as though the answer should be obvious.

She sipped at her coffee, pondering. Yes, he would certainly need his strength for what lay ahead. Whatever that was. She hadn't had time until now to really think about his future. Everything had been up in the air. Hojo, Genesis, everything in between all of that. There hadn't been time to slow down and think. She found she didn't want to think about it, either. What would the WRO want to do with him? Oh, there had been plenty of talk last week, but the focus had been mainly on detaining Hojo- the two ex-SOLDIERS had been placed on the back-burner. She felt a knot of tension begin to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Don't look so concerned," Sephiroth said. His voice was almost light, bordering on playful.

"You're much better today," she answered.

He inclined his head and looked down at his coffee. "I feel much better. Forgive me," his voice dropped, "for frightening you."

She shrugged and rested her hand on his large shoulder. "You didn't frighten me."

His eyes were the color of moss today, not quite so otherworldly but still striking. He studied her for a long, silent moment. Tifa was about to ask him why he was staring at her, but finally he looked away and she heard him sigh quietly. He covered her hand with his, swallowing it, his long fingers and large palm dwarfing hers. "I owe you my life," he said eventually.

"I guess you do," she said lightly.

"And my sanity."

She smiled and laced her fingers through his. "You would have found it eventually."

"No," he murmured. "It's you, Tifa. You make me sane."

She blushed and squeezed his hand. This conversation had taken a decidedly heavy turn. She didn't mind- in fact, it sent a secret little thrill down her spine. "Do I?"

Sephiroth turned in his chair so that he was facing her. How had she ever been frightened of him? He was as imposing as ever, tall and built like a perfectly crafted fighting machine, but sitting here and sharing a cup of coffee with her, so human, so at-peace for the moment. She knew there was weakness there, buried somewhere behind his unruffled exterior, and yet that thought only made her feel safer with him. If there was madness somewhere inside of him, it was weak and shrivelled, hardly a ghost of what it had once been.

He blinked slowly and smiled. It was a different smile, one she'd never seen before. Slow, shy, almost awkward. "Yes," he said.

The air between them felt different, suddenly. She tilted her head and smiled back at him, aware that her heart had picked up speed and her cheeks felt flushed. She watched his eyes flicker down to her mouth. He looked back up at her briefly before turning away.

"Sephiroth-" she said, a dozen thoughts vying for attention in her head, wanting to be spoken, but he cut her off almost gently.

"I'm no fool, Tifa. I wouldn't dare to presume more than friendship with you." He looked down at his coffee, his expression rather pained. "I have no experience with love. I had always thought it was a weakness, to attach oneself to another person. While I was strapped down to that table… there were moments I wanted to die. Thinking of you gave me strength. I believe I have some understanding of what it means to love, now. It no longer feels like a weakness."

Tifa was not a person who wore her heart on her sleeve. She didn't talk about her feelings. She didn't want to appear vulnerable. She didn't want people to worry about her. Now, staring at Sephiroth in mild shock, she could admit to herself that she would never have said a word to him about the way he made her feel. But the fact that he felt free to throw it out there, to casually bring it up over a cup of coffee, made her love him even more.

Cloud would never have done this. She would never have done this. She had to reach deep inside herself to find the courage needed to voice her feelings. And even then, words failed her. So she simply took his large hand in hers' and squeezed. He looked down at her, his eyes unreadable. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, testing. They were soft, surprisingly warm. She'd gotten used to the idea that love was not all fireworks and butterflies in her stomach and all of those sweet childhood dreams, so when a fluttering sensation burst in her chest she was honestly taken by surprise. She sucked in a quick breath of air.

He moved slowly, truly hesitant for the first time since all of this had begun. He kissed her gently, his lips moving against hers, drawing it out, almost innocent but not quite. He ran his tongue along her lower lip and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap, and suddenly she had her fireworks. Her head was full of light and sound. There were a million gossamer wings beating against her ribs. She groaned softly and put her hands in his thick silver hair.

He broke the kiss off suddenly, with a low sigh, but still held her in his lap, his eyes roving over her face as though memorizing every detail. She felt a heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment. "You are the strongest person I've ever met," she murmured, pulling her hands through his hair and leaning forward to kiss him again.

All of her silly childhood fantasies about love and romance, about a hero coming to rescue her, seemed suddenly and hilariously irrelevant. This was what she'd been looking for. This was what she'd mistakenly painted Cloud as in her subconscious- someone who would swoop in and pull her up, love her and make her feel safe. This was certainly no fairy-tale. Her hands were tangled in the hair of a man who'd done horrible things. But she knew he would never falter or flake on her, and if there was ever self-doubt it was placed aside. If she ever needed anything, Sephiroth could be counted on. He was not perfect but he was there.

She let her hands fall to his shoulders and then his waist, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his chest. The steady rise and fall of breath soothed her. Sephiroth shifted slightly and slid one arm under her knees, lifting her up effortlessly. She tilted her head to look at him. "Where are we going?" Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears, simultaneously playful and lusty.

"Back to bed." He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down on the unmade bed. With that simple action Tifa became a bundle of nerves and excitement as he hovered over her, his lips finding her throat and laying kisses along her collarbone. She wondered suddenly how long it had been since he'd been with a woman, whether love and sex intersected in his mind the way it did in hers, and whether this was all too much too quickly- but sensible thoughts were quickly fading as his hands began to map out every line and angle of her body.

* * *

The next day found them lying in bed well past noon. Sephiroth slept more soundly than she'd ever seen him do before, and when he woke he seemed like a new person. Rumpled and warm, his silver hair disheveled, his chiseled cheeks flushed pink. He kept his arms tangled around her waist as he regarded her with a tender expression. She decided she liked this side of him. Gentle and soft. Lover.

Her body protested in when she rolled onto her side, and she winced slightly. There were aches and pains she'd never had before, proof of yesterday's activities. "Good morning," she said, taking in his face and smiling like a fool.

"Good morning." He pulled her against him gently and buried his face in her hair. She heard him breathe in slowly, inhaling her scent. Despite her soreness she felt herself stirring yet again, wanting more. She pressed her hips against his and he laughed, his breath tickling her ear. "I don't recall the last time I had the luxury of sleeping in," he murmured.

She smiled and kissed his cheek, her mouth wandering to his ear and down his throat to his collarbone. "Let's stay in bed," she whispered.

"I find that an agreeable suggestion." He slid one hand down her hip and across her thigh, eliciting an excited flutter in her chest.

They were interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door. Sephiroth wasted no time. He leapt out of bed and dressed himself quickly- she was sorry to see his body suddenly covered- then left the bedroom with a rather wistful glance back at her.

Tifa groaned and got dressed herself. Admittedly it was probably a good thing they were being interrupted, because she was quite sore, but she still felt a bit of resentment to whomever was knocking so loudly. Sephiroth shifted the curtains slightly to peer out at the front step.

"Who is it?" she asked warily.

"I do not know." He looked over his shoulder at her. "It is a man in a suit- perhaps from the WRO?"

She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and looked out the window. Reeve Tuesti was pounding on her door impatiently, looking rattled and out of place in the tropical sunshine, his heavy suit seeming to wilt in the heat. "It's Reeve," she muttered, mentally cursing the man. Couldn't they have more than a day to relax? Sephiroth deserved at least a chance to recuperate. Even though this was inevitable, she felt oddly cheated for being interrupted.

She went to open the door but he beat her to it, flashing her one last soft smile before swinging the door open with a neutral look on his face.


End file.
